


Desperate Measures

by rottnrotty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Auror Ron Weasley, Azkaban, Corruption, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hopeful Ending, M/M, POV First Person, POV Ron Weasley, Rare Pairings, Wrists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-04 12:51:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16347086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottnrotty/pseuds/rottnrotty
Summary: Excerpt:I hadn’t seen or wondered about Draco Malfoy in years. Over two years, to be exact. Since the war ended, and he was sent to Azkaban after his Wizengamot trial.Having him dumped back into my life was less than ideal. For starters, I hate the git. Hated the git? Do you still actively hate someone who you haven’t spared a second thought for? Whatever, he was a giant arsehole at Hogwarts, and I couldn’t imagine he’d changed too much. And I’m a Junior Auror, working long, erratic hours. How the hell was I supposed to babysit Malfoy and still do my job properly?





	Desperate Measures

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow I’ve kinda fallen in love with the Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy pairing.
> 
> Like all my stories, this has no beta reader, so please excuse any mistakes.
> 
> This was supposed to be a short little story, but it grew a life of its own.

“It will only be for two weeks.A month, at most,” my boss, Kingsley Shacklebolt, promised.Well, he’s not just my boss - leader of the whole Ministry now, isn’t he?

 

Just how do you say no to the Minister of Magic, who still comes to Sunday brunch at your parent’s house at least once a month?

 

You don’t.And I didn’t.But I also didn’t accept my fate graciously.“You can’t be serious,” I whined petulantly.Mum would have so proud of her twenty year old Junior Auror son acting like a toddler.

 

“I’m sorry, Ron,” he said, not actually sounding sorry at all.What he really seemed was distracted.“Maybe it will work out better than you think.None of the others have complained.”His focus was already redirected to the stacks of paperwork on the desk in front of him.I waited for a moment longer, hoping for a reprieve. Or a miracle. Anything to get me out of this nightmarish situation.

 

He never looked back up, so I considered my self dismissed.“Yeah right,” I muttered darkly.“Not bloody likely.” 

 

None of the others had complained, because none of them had to live with Draco sodding Malfoy for two weeks.

 

~~~***~~~

 

I hadn’t seen or wondered about Draco Malfoy in years.Over two years, to be exact.Since the war ended, and he was sent to Azkaban after his Wizengamot trial.

 

Having him dumped back into my life was less than ideal.For starters, I hate the git.Hated the git?Do you still actively hate someone who you haven’t spared a second thought for?Whatever, he was a giant arsehole at Hogwarts, and I couldn’t imagine he’d changed too much.And I’m a Junior Auror, working long, erratic hours.How the hell was I supposed to babysit Malfoy and still do my job properly?

 

I knew that Azkaban was overcrowded.I’d experienced it first hand: witnessed the suffocating horror, felt the despair and hopelessness, smelled the stench of human agony and suffering.I just didn’t understand what that had to do with Malfoy. How would things be different, in a couple of weeks?Merlin, it better be a couple of weeks.If it was a month, I’d...I’d...it was too horrible to contemplate.

 

Lucky me, I get to go to that cesspool of misery tomorrow to pick up Malfoy.Last time I was there, I vomited all over my shoes, while my Senior Auror partner rolled his eyes and complained to the Warden.If I’m fortunate, I won’t toss my biscuits in front of my childhood enemy. 

 

~~~***~~~

 

Kingsley gave me a file to read.It had **DRACO L. MALFOY** written out in huge, bold letters, with his prisoner number **§¥741** just below.Under that was the mugshot. 

 

The very first mugshot I had seen, or at least been remotely interested in, was that of Sirius Black.Each year at Hogwarts brought its own special set of challenges, and in third year, it was the maddened face of a mass murderer. 

 

Draco Malfoy’s mugshot was nothing like Sirius’s.Malfoy sat composed, facing the camera but not making eye contact, his gaze just slightly off to the right.If it wasn’t for a blink and a swallow, I would be tempted to say it was a muggle photo, he remained so still.In a way, he did remind me of Sirius.There was one picture Harry had, of a young, school-aged Sirius, where his godfather was looking straight at the camera, intensely focused, all piercing stormy grey gaze.Just when you think you should look away, that you are intruding on a moment so intimate, so personal, that it wasn’t meant to be seen by other eyes, Sirius broke into a wide, sparkling smile.As the scene ended, Sirius mouthed something at the camera.“Moony.”Harry figured that out.Sirius was looking at Lupin with that burning hooded gaze.

 

Both Malfoy and Sirius possessed the same easy confidence of people who were self-assured in their appearance.Like it’s their due to be sitting in front of the camera.They didn’t have to work at the perfect pose, it was already naturally there, in the tilt of the chin and the set of the lips.Inborn beauty, wielded at the world like a weapon, without either of them realizing it.Or perhaps they did.They were both Blacks, after all.

 

That was as far as I got in Malfoy’s file.The front cover.It remained unopened, thrown half-heartedly on my kitchen table on top of a pile of Quibblers.What did I need to read it for, anyway?I knew what he did.Moving past the war was hard enough, no need to open up old wounds.It might actually make it harder, to have the man in my house, if I perused his crimes.Best to leave it then.

 

Still, as I left for Azkaban, I took one last fleeting look at the mugshot.It could have been my imagination, but I thought I detected something besides fear in Malfoy’s eyes.It wasn’t cowardice, or dread, or even disdain.No, what I thought I saw was something much more interesting; it was shame. 

 

Ludicrous, I know.A Malfoy, actually feeling penitent?Unheard of.Someone raised by Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black surely hadn’t even been taught the word.Having a conscience didn’t have a place in that family.Yet, despite seven years of personal evidence to the contrary, I clung to the notion that Malfoy might have a glimmer of softness among his sharp edges and prickly angles.

 

~~~***~~~

 

I didn’t vomit at Azkaban, but it was a near miss.Fuck.

 

I don’t know what I expected.The Malfoy from the mugshot?A pretty blond boy, smirking and sneering and calling me Weasel?Spitting insults and threats?

 

What I got was much worse.So so much worse.I would take a thousand eternities of Draco Malfoy’s bullying in exchange for the memory of that morning, in Azkaban, and after.

 

Two guards hauled in a scrawny prisoner, supported under each arm, feet dragging on the floor.He was filthy and stunk.I wondered what the hold up was.Why weren’t they bringing Malfoy out?Was this prisoner also being released to Auror care?Then one of the guards propped the man against a wall, and wrenched his face up in my direction.“See that lovely Auror over there?” the guard asked icily.“He’s your new master, for however much time you have left.Don’t fuck it up.”

 

Recognition hit, and I couldn’t look away.I wanted to. Merlin, did I want to.

 

Draco Malfoy was, for lack of a better term, wrecked.His body was in absolute wretched condition.His blond hair was so matted and soiled, it was unrecognizable.Sores covered his body, marring the exposed skin on his arms and legs where the prison rags left him bare and unprotected from the elements.Malfoy picked absentmindedly at a particularly large spot on his left inner forearm, digging deep with his fingernails until he made it weep and drip blood down his arm, onto his wrist and to the floor.What shocked me most was his face.Now the Black family resemblance was clear, as this version of Draco Malfoy mirrored the famous Sirius Black wanted poster.Cheeks so hollow and sharp they could cut glass.Eyes sunken, rimmed with dark purple bruises.Lips cracked and peeling, oozing blood from one corner of his mouth.

 

That’s when I swallowed back the bile pushing its way up my throat.

 

Malfoy opened his mouth, but no sound came out.He earned a swift swat to the back of his head for his trouble.“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” one of the guards threatened.

 

The other turned to me, and said, “we’ll need to get him ready for your place.”He gestured to an area in the corner of the room, where I could see chains hanging from the wall.“He’ll get a shower with the hose, a quick treatment for parasites, and you’ll be on your way in no time.”He leered at me, and wiggled his eyebrows.“You can stay and watch, if you like.”

 

They began to roughly undress Malfoy, starting by hauling his arms up over his head to remove his shirt.“Wait!” I cried loudly.I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing more of Malfoy’s emaciated body right now.The guards looked at me, boredom and resentment filling their eyes.I stalled for time.“What’s that, around his neck?”

 

I’ve said a lot of stupid things in my lifetime.I’ve had the disappointed gaze of Molly Weasley, Professor McGonagall, and Hermione Granger directed my way, so I’m not easy to fluster.“Are you an Auror or ain’t ya?”Both guards crossed their arms over their chests and studied me hostilely.Malfoy, now totally unsupported, slid down the wall a foot.“That’s the collar. Keeps the prisoners from using wandless magic, now that the Dementors have fucked off.” 

 

Yeah, I probably should have known that, but I did my best to avoid visiting Azkaban.“Oh, right.Looks different than the last one I saw.”They exchanged glances, but didn’t call me out on the obvious lie.“I’m kinda in a rush here, let’s skip the...uh...cleaning part.”

 

“Whatever you say, less work for us,” the guard closest to me shrugged.“Although, I wouldn’t mind one last look at that arse.”

 

No.Just....no.I didn’t want to see Malfoy’s naked arse.Not happening.“Sorry, no time,” I blustered, rushing forward towards Malfoy.He’d been staring at me all the while, but I couldn’t read his expression.When I got close to him, though, he flinched, and slid down the wall even further, finally dropping his head.

 

I put out a hand, and asked gently “can you walk?”Malfoy pondered my hand for a moment.He nodded, and allowed me to pull him to his feet and support him out of the room.

 

As soon as we got to the gates, he collapsed, crumbling bonelessly inward at my feet.I stood there a beat too long, staring down at him, wondering what the bloody fuck I should do.I heard the faintest “sorry” mumbled from the ground.

 

“Don’t be,” I replied in what I meant to be a soothing voice.It came out sort of rough and sharp, and he folded in on himself even more.“Can you walk?” I repeated, but he didn’t need to answer this time.He couldn’t.

 

There was only one thing for it.I picked him up, bridal style.He seemed taller than I remembered.Not quite my height, but definitely taller than Harry by almost a head.Yet he weighed practically nothing.Around 9 stone, if I had to guess.Less than Hermione or Ginny.

 

I was overwhelmed by a sense of déjà vu.The skinny frame, ill-fitting clothes, tired, tortured expression; I’d seen it all before, on Harry, in the summer before second year.When his family had starved him, and locked him up.Like a prisoner.I’d never fully realized just how awful and abusive they were at the time, but it hit me like a punch to the face now.

 

The last thing I needed to do was keep comparing Draco Malfoy to people I cared about, like Sirius and Harry.He might have been broken now, but I couldn’t let my guard down.‘Constant Vigilance,’ and all that rot.

 

At least I had one question answered.Whatever I felt for Malfoy, it certainly wasn’t hatred.

 

~~~***~~~

 

Harry was the best mate a bloke could have, and so, without being asked, he was waiting at my place when we returned.He took one look at the pitiful grey bundle in my arms and blanched away.“Is that...oh my god, Ron, is that...”. Yeah, I know exactly how you feel, mate.Words couldn’t describe it.

 

“He’s passed out,” I explained, although that part was obvious.Malfoy’s head lolled drunkenly against my chest, his mouth agape.Drool mixed with the blood in the corner of his mouth, trickling down his chin and onto my robes.I had the strangest urge to wipe it off with my sleeve, like a parent might do, but held back.“Do you think you could run a bath?”

 

“Yeah.Yeah, of course,” Harry said mechanically.Merlin, this was probably stirring up memories of Sirius, his gaunt form subsisting on rats just to stay close to his godson, to keep him safe.Harry’s last shot at a family of his own.I mean, he’d always be a Weasley, he knew that.But what he had stolen from him when Sirius died - I think a part of Harry permanently broke that day.No one had lost more than Harry.

 

I directed him to add a few different healing Potions, which I hoped would help with Malfoy’s sores, and whatever injuries he had lurking under his rags that I couldn’t see.Then I told him to go home.“Give Ginny a big hug for me,” I said.“I’ll see you both soon.Thank you, Harry.”

 

He watched as I gingerly lowered Malfoy unto the toilet.“I’ll help in any way I can,” he promised, and promptly left the bathroom.I was grateful. I didn’t want an audience for what was coming next. 

 

I was still supporting Malfoy by the shoulders.How was he sleeping through all of this?“Malfoy,” I said quietly as I squeezed one shoulder.I expected it would take a few tries to rouse him, but he jolted awake, head whipping back and forth in a blur.“Malfoy.It’s me, Ron Weasley,” I said in my ‘Auror’ voice, which consisted of equal parts firmness and compassion.“We’re home.Er...at my place.I’ve got a bath ready for you.”

 

Malfoy remained tense under my hands, but stopped flailing.He nodded once, and made to start removing his clothes. In his weakened state, even this proved too difficult.“Here,” I said, pointing my wand at him.He flinched again, but I kept going.There was no way I was undressing Malfoy with my own hands.“Depulso.”Malfoy’s filthy rags were instantly banished, hopefully never to be seen again.“Do you need help...getting in?”

 

Malfoy shook his head, and said croakily, “no, I’ll manage.”It was the first time I heard him speak, besides that whispered “sorry” outside of Azkaban, which could have been my mind playing tricks on me.

 

“Right.Ok, well...I’ll...er...” I was so flustered.I wasn’t used to having house guests, and certainly not naked male ones.“There are towels above the toilet.I’ll leave some clean clothes outside the door.Just...holler if you need help, yeah?”

 

I got a nod for an answer.Maybe that’s how it would be.I’d make awkward statements, and Malfoy would nod or shake his head as he saw fit, and we would survive these two weeks without total carnage.

 

As I closed the door, I heard it.A faint “thank you”, spoken from lips that weren’t used to saying the words.I almost ignored him. I didn’t want to get in any deeper with Malfoy. 

 

“You’re welcome,” I whispered, as the door clicked shut.I didn’t even know if he heard me.

 

~~~***~~~

 

Malfoy sat on my favourite chair in the living room, one ankle crossed regally over his knee, a book clasped in his hands.There was just the slightest hint of a tremor in the long, pale fingers, and only if you were really looking for it. 

 

I couldn’t get over the vast improvement in his appearance already.Just over an hour ago, I had gone upstairs after hearing a strange noise, to find Malfoy dripping wet and clutching the bathroom door jam, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet and muttering under his breath. 

 

Now, dressed in a pair of Ginny’s old joggers and a shrunken Cannon’s t-shirt, he looked almost normal.Not Draco Malfoy normal, but human being normal, at least. 

 

I didn’t know what the fuck to do with him.Was I expected to provide him company?Make polite, stilted conversation?Or could I shove him in the spare bedroom, and order him to stay there until told otherwise?

 

In the end, I fed him some of my Mum’s soup, of which he ate a disturbingly small quantity, then gave him a book.He stared at the cover for a few minutes before flipping it over multiple times and finally cracking it open.He’d been holding it for over a quarter hour, and I hadn’t seen him turn a page.

 

As for me, I’d been not-so-subtly watching him.The joggers were much too short, but at least they fit in the waist, unlike my trousers.A scandalous amount of delicate ankle bone was showing on the leg Malfoy had propped up.Malfoy had always been more of a slight, lean build, but now the bones in his wrists and ankles were so prominent, I was worried they would rip through his translucent skin when he moved. 

 

They were a haunting vision burned into my mind, those frail, breakable wrists and ankles.I had the strangest desire to wrap my fingers around his wrists, to put a physical feeling on his immense vulnerability.Maybe run a thumb over the protruding bone.Sick, I was sick!Hadn’t helping him walk, and eventually having to carry him, been enough?Was I really so keen on seeing my adversary brought even lower? 

 

Or was is something more... something deeper, darker, that made my heart start to race just staring at Malfoy’s crossed foot?

 

“What are you going to do while I’m at work tomorrow?” I blurted out.I needed something different to fixate on.

 

Malfoy remained focused on the book, but the shaking of his hands increased.“What would you like me to do?” he asked in a froggy whisper.It was such a pitiful sound that I sort of missed his trademark cultured Malfoy drawl.

 

“Just...make yourself at home, I guess,” I said casually, and shrugged my shoulders.He missed the gesture entirely, still avidly staring at the book he wasn’t actually reading.

 

He said something under his breath.“What?I couldn’t hear you.”

 

In a slightly louder voice, still just barely audible, “I’m your prisoner.”

 

And something clicked, at those hushed words uttered from swollen, cracked lips.Malfoy was scared of me.For the first time in my life, I, Ronald Weasley, had power over the life of Draco Malfoy.I could do whatever I wanted with him, and no one would bat an eye.The proof sat right in front of me, in the misused, haggard form of a once beautiful boy. 

 

My gut turned at the very thought.Was this why Malfoy was here, at my house?Had someone said, “oh, place him with Weasley, they hated each other as boys.Ron will keep the git in line.”?Fuck, I hoped not.I truly, sincerely hoped no one thought me capable of such brutality. 

 

I really needed to read that file of Malfoy’s.

 

“Look Malfoy,” I sighed, rubbing my face, “this situation isn’t ideal for me, but I’m not going to hurt you.You can do whatever you want.Eat, sleep, read, watch the telly.I don’t care.”Finally, he glanced up, and for a split second, it felt like a win.Then I saw the look in his eyes, and I knew he didn’t believe a word.He was still terrified, but in a resigned way.He was just waiting for things to get bad.“Would you like me to show you to your room?”

 

“You don’t want me to sleep with you?” he questioned, and promptly blushed.The flush gave an illusion of healthiness to his pallid complexion.“I meant, in your room, so you can keep an eye on me?I was told I’d be sleeping on the floor at the foot of your bed.”

 

 _By who_?I wanted to scream.Who the fuck would tell him that?Who the fuck would expect that of me?

 

I took a deep breath, to calm myself, before answering.“No.No, Malfoy, I don’t want you to sleep on the floor by my bed.Merlin!”Ok, so the deep breath maybe didn’t help calm me down too much.Malfoy reacted poorly to my increased temper, the shaking in his hands spreading to his entire body.“Sorry,” I said, holding my hands up in the air.“Let’s just get you to bed, yeah?”

 

He nodded, the clean but still matted strands of his hair falling into his eyes and shielding his expression from view.After a couple of attempts to push himself out of the chair, I moved in front of him and offered my hand again.He took it quicker this time, but still tried to drop it as soon as he stood.

 

He stumbled once, climbing the stairs, and I reached out to steady him.

 

That was my excuse, anyway, for why my hand found its way around one fragile wrist, keeping contact until Malfoy was sitting stiffly on my guest bed.

 

“I’ll bring home some hair Potion tomorrow,” I promised.“See if we can get those mats and knots out.Otherwise it’ll need to be cut.”

 

Another nod, and a look of mistrust.Whatever.I could deal, it was only two weeks.And Malfoy was as docile as a baby lamb.What trouble could he possibly cause?

 

~~~***~~~

 

The first thing I did upon arriving at work was book an appointment with Shacklebolt for later in the week.

 

That morning, I had made a quick breakfast of eggs and toast.Malfoy managed a whole fried egg and half a bread slice, covered in a thick layer of marmalade.Then he sat and watched me eat, working the scab on his left arm raw, until it was festering once more.

 

During Auror training, I picked up a little Muggle first-aid.Useful in cases where you didn’t know what curse had been used, and you were scared to do more damage with added magic.It was time to employ some of these techniques on Malfoy.

 

I pushed away from the table, and calmly said, “you’re gonna get an infection.Let me clean that up.”I walked sedately to the bathroom, where I picked out my supplies.Back in the kitchen, Malfoy had gone as still as a statue.He didn’t want me to touch him, but he’d let me; he was my prisoner, as he so kindly remind me last night.

 

I didn’t want to touch him either.Or rather, I was scared to touch him.I had a legitimate excuse to hold Malfoy’s wrist - that ethereal, fragile wrist - and seize it in my strong grasp.To circle my fingers around it. To see my freckled hand linked with his pale one.But I didn’t want to. Not when he was so clearly terrified of my touch. 

 

 _This is just like any patch-up job in the line of duty_ , I lied to myself.I grabbed his elbow instead, and got my first close look at the giant sore on his arm.The skin was puckered and pink in some places, raw and weeping in others.And underneath, greyish-black lines, almost like...

 

Harry had been right all along.Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark.

 

And someone had tried to remove it.“This looks like a burn,” I said, horrified.Burns were fairly easy to heal, if dealt with promptly. How had this been overlooked for so long?

 

“Yes,” Malfoy agreed, but offered no further explanation.

 

“How did you get it?” I demanded, squeezing his bicep rather tightly.“Did this happen in Azkaban?”

 

He looked at me, and the naked emotion was so plain on his face, it left me floundering for my next move.“Don’t,” he said pleadingly.It was heartbreaking, even more so coming from someone who had been as cocky as Malfoy.

 

“Ok,” I said soothingly.I threw myself into the task at hand; rubbing in a healing Potion, covering the wound in telfa and wrapping it in gauze.“It’s ok.I don’t need to know.Just keep this dry today, yeah?I’ll check it when I get home, to see if you need a new one.And no picking!”

 

Malfoy stared at the bandage, much like he stared at the book the previous night.He still hadn’t looked up when I left for work.

 

Which was why I needed to meet with Shacklebolt.

 

Just what in the bloody buggering fuck was going on in Azkaban?Things were supposed to have improved, with the Dementors gone, and Aurors in charge.I mean, I hadn’t expected the prisoners to be living in the lap of luxury.But what Malfoy looked like... what he must have endured, in the two years he’d been imprisoned... it wasn’t right.

 

Hermione stopped by with sandwiches and pumpkin juice at lunch.I hadn’t even thought of eating, but once it was all unwrapped and laid out on my desk, I found myself suddenly ravenous.“How’s it going with Malfoy?” she asked, fiddling with a bit of crust.She seemed rather tentative, which was unlike the brash, confident girl I knew so well.“You aren’t being too hard on him, are you?”

 

“Fuck’s sake, ‘Mione!”Hermione once admitted to me that I could come across as cruel. Apparently Luna had made a random, rambling comment to this effect, back in Hogwarts.I was furious at the time.How could anyone think I was cruel?In my family, I’d always labelled as the over-sensitive one.The boy who worried too much, and over-analyzed everything inside his head, until it was blown way out of proportion.And yeah, maybe sometimes I lashed out.But not without reason.

 

Maybe it was being the last in a line of six boys, before the much-anticipated baby girl was finally born, that made me question my worth.Or maybe that was just my personality, who knew?Regardless, I had always felt... less.Just less.It was something I never really outgrew, although I had learned to manage it.Auror training was good in that regard.I discovered that a lot of people had doubts, and not just in their magical abilities.

 

Still, it rankled that one of my best friends; my previous girlfriend, in fact; still thought of me as a spiteful prick who would deliberately hurt a person under my care.I replied in a clipped tone, “Malfoy’s fine.I’m fine too, thanks for asking.It’s only for two weeks.Everything will be... fine.”

 

Fine.Yup, we were all fine.Malfoy looked like a fucking skeleton, covered in burns and sores and Merlin knew what. He could barely stomach a meal fit for a child.And he didn’t speak, unless he had no other option.Meanwhile, I was daydreaming over his finely boned fucking wrists.Because that’s perfectly normal.And fine.Totally fine.

 

“Sorry, Ron,” she said, abashed.“I didn’t mean to imply that you were mistreating Malfoy.It’s just... well, I’ve seen his file.”Of course she had, working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.“I was worried it would upset you.There are some pretty wild accusations in there.”

 

Which was exactly why I had decided not to read the sodding file in the first place.But it was looking more and more like I would have to.Bollocks.

 

“It’s fine, Hermione,” I said, and she smiled crookedly at my overuse of the word fine.“Malfoy’s safe with me.”

 

I don’t know what made me say it.I wasn’t supposed to keep him safe.This was a temporary house arrest situation, nothing more, until there was room again in Azkaban. 

 

“I know,” she replied, patting my hand.“I do know, Ron, how sweet and noble you are.That’s one of the reasons, when they were looking for somewhere to place Malfoy, that I recommended you.”

 

So I had Hermione to thank for this?I tried to feel angry, at her sticking her bossy nose and bushy head into my life once again.But I found I couldn’t muster the proper ire.I felt proud, in a way, that she trusted me so much.“And that’s why they picked me?” I asked hopefully.

 

“Noooo,” she said slowly, carefully.Like she didn’t want to reveal the truth, but didn’t know how to hide it.“I think they picked you because they thought you’d be the best person for the job.To keep up with the punishments Malfoy received at Azkaban.”I felt raw and exposed, as she studied me with her suggestive, knowing look.Thankfully, I was more practised at interpreting her expressions now than I ever had been as a young boy, and was able to infer her meaning. 

 

Malfoy had been released to me, because they thought I would carry on with his exploitation.My fears had been confirmed.

 

Merlin, the Magical legal system was as corrupt as ever.What was the point of the wars, and the rebuilding, if not to learn from our mistakes?Nothing ever fucking changed.

 

Unless it was my turn, this time, to bring about the change?What an unwanted and wholly daunting thought.I was no Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding world, or Hermione Granger, social justice warrior and champion of the oppressed.I was just Ron Weasley, ok Auror, kinda cruel as a boy, full of self-doubts, the least-loved kid in a family of seven.Nothing special.Certainly not up to such a large task.

 

And really, was Malfoy even worth it?

 

Baby steps, then. “Hey, ‘Mione?Could I borrow a bottle of Sleekeazy’s?”Untangle Malfoy’s hair tonight, solve the world’s problems tomorrow.

 

~~~***~~~

 

Malfoy was hovering tensely in front of my favourite armchair when I arrived home. Probably didn’t want me to catch him sitting down. 

 

The first thing I noticed was that his bandage was gone.The skin looked loads better, though.Still puckered, but much less red and angry.The second thing that caught my eye was Malfoy’s knees.He was dressed in a pair of Harry’s old swim trunks, topped off with a t-shirt that had once belonged to Hermione.The overall effect was a lot of milky pale exposed skin, most notably a stretch of stomach between the too-short shirt and the low riding shorts.But for all of that, it was his knobby knees that caught and held my eye.I wondered what the skin would be like, at the back, where they bent.Would it be soft?Would it be paler than the rest of his body?Would it flush with goose pimples when stroked?A silent scream bounced through my brain.Wrong, wrong, these thoughts were so very wrong.I was feeling itchy, uncomfortable in my own skin.

 

Malfoy shuffled from foot to foot, breaking my daze.“Where’d you find the clothes?” I asked gruffly.How had I forgotten something as simple as clothes?He would definitely need some properly fitting attire.I’d get Percy to send some stuff over; they had much the same lanky build, minus the 3 or so stone Percy had on Malfoy at the moment. 

 

“In the chest in the spare bedroom,” Malfoy replied, tugging on the swim trunks.As soon as he let go, they drooped down past his hollow hip bones again.At least the skin on his abdomen looked healthier.

 

“Did you have a bath today?”Nod.“With more healing Potions?” Another nod.“Good.I’m glad you listened.Although, you’ve taken your bandage off.”

 

“Yes, I did.You said not to get it wet.But I haven’t been picking!”Merlin, Malfoy sounded like a chastened child.Not a hint of the old contempt he used to show the professors at Hogwarts.It was as if he was an entirely different person, and I found I didn’t like it. 

 

“That’s great,” I said, feeling enormously stupid.I sounded like I was talking to Teddy Lupin or something, not a grown man of twenty.“Come here, then.I’ll rebandage it for you.”

 

It was odd, how quickly we settled into a routine.I cooked Malfoy breakfast every morning.When I came home after work, he would be lingering awkwardly by my chair.We’d eat supper together, I’d bandage his arm, and we’d retire to the living room.Malfoy spoke a little more every day, and finally, on the third evening, we had a real conversation. 

 

He was squinting at a book, and since pages were actually turning, he seemed to be reading it this time.I had forgone my usual telly watching, in favour of jotting down some notes for my appointment with Kingsley Shacklebolt in the morning.I didn’t realize I was talking to myself until Malfoy asked me his first direct question.“What are you working on?”

 

“Huh?” I replied ineloquently.I was so focused, I’d almost forgotten he was there.

 

“I thought you said... never mind.”He dropped his head back into his book, eyes way too close to the pages.

 

I glanced at my sheet. The last thing I had written was ‘why me?’. 

 

I didn’t want to tell Malfoy too much about the upcoming meeting.Nothing destroyed the soul more brutally than false hope.“Oh.I uh... I sometimes talk out loud when I’m working.I was just wondering why they placed you with me.”

 

“For Salazar’s sake, read the fucking file, Weasley.I see it sitting on the table, gathering dust, you utter prat.Read my file, then see if you still want to cook me breakfast and draw my bath and fucking sit with me in your fucking living room every fucking evening.”His chest heaved with effort.

 

My mouth fell open in shock.There was the old Malfoy temper, rearing it’s ugly head.Finally.But it abandoned the boy as quickly as it had come, leaving him slumped back in the chair.“Sorry.That was inappropriate,” he said, staring down at his knees.

 

Inappropriate or not, Malfoy’s little outburst had my stomach flipping over, feeling all tingly and weird and leaving me with a hollow, achy longing.“Speak your mind, Malfoy.I’d rather hear your thoughts, however dickish they may be, than watch you sit here day after day like a dormant, puppety Inferius.”

 

Malfoy smiled, just the slightest turning up of his lips, before his expression smoothed back into his normal, pensive look.However feeble that smile might have been, it still left my heart soaring in my chest.

 

~~~***~~~

 

Draco sodding Malfoy.

 

Seriously, two years spent without a second thought spared for the obnoxious git, all down the fucking tubes.And for what?For the boy who made my life, the lives of my closest friends, miserable during our school years?

 

The worst part, the very bloody worst, most infuriating part, was how quickly I fell back into my old habits. 

 

Back at Hogwarts, there was a boy.A beautiful blond boy, with the face of an angel and the sharp tongue of a snake.I watched that boy.Secretly.Covertly.I watched him, and attempted to separate him neatly into two different entities.The fair and lovely boy whose delicate looks prickled my heart and made my head spin.He was distinct from the caustic, snarling boy who spat malicious insults like they were nothing. 

 

It was ok for me to covet the beautiful boy.Or so I told myself.I’d get lost, watching him on the Quidditch pitch, his lanky frame bent low over his broom, slender arm extended in a desperate bid to catch the snitch, long dexterous fingers reaching impossibly forward.It was then that I first noticed his wrists, peeking coquettishly from his emerald green Quidditch kit.I blamed those wrists for turning my brain to absolute mush.

 

Sometimes, I was a bad friend.Sometimes, I wished with all my might for that boy to win the game, to conquer, even over my own best mate.Over my own House. Just for a chance to see his smile.It was the smile of pure glee and happiness, for a moment.The smile of an elated boy, riding the high of his accomplishment.It was quick. It was fleeting.And, all too soon, it was over, and the smirk, the snarl, the smug, unpleasant face of the other boy took over.

 

There was a lot of shame involved, in yearning for something you shouldn’t.

 

Because, as much as I’d like to claim that I was only obsessed with one boy, the angelic boy, the pretty blond smiling boy, that wasn’t true.The dark boy, the mean, intelligent, biting, rude, rich, and too-often callous boy - he intrigued me.In a sick, twisted way, I wanted him, too. 

 

I kept it guarded and secret, even from myself.Pushed it deep down, where it couldn’t see the light of day.No chance to grow, to fester into something unwieldy.Like Devil’s Snare, or even more terrible.Unthinkable.

 

I concentrated on the other emotions Malfoy brought. out in me.The jealousy, the envy, the longing for an easier life with more money and less siblings.How much I despised his Pureblood politics and parroted opinions and Muggle hatred.So manynegative feelings.How could a good wizard, a kind-hearted Weasley, be enthralled by someone like that?Easy, I couldn’t. It was just that other boy, the pretty one, that I couldn’t stop thinking about. 

 

And so I lied, and tricked myself, until it became true.Or a semblance of the truth at least.I convinced myself that I could never desire a boy so... so evil.The light and the dark.The good and the bad.As if we aren’t just all shades of grey. 

 

I let that good, pure blond boy live in my mind, for years.He wasn’t real, and I almost forgot that.Just like the bad, evil boy wasn’t real.There were never two separate boys, just a disturbing, confusing mix of the two, making up one actual, legitimate person who would never be right for me, in any way. 

 

Draco sodding Malfoy.

 

~~~***~~~

 

The file. The ‘fucking file’, as Malfoy called it.Bloody hell, the file.

 

Everyone was right.I should have read the ‘fucking file’.I should have read it, and told Shacklebolt to shove his plan to stick Draco Malfoy at my house right up his arse. 

 

I hadn’t known anything about Malfoy’s charges at the time.I was too busy mourning.And, digging a little deeper into my psyche, I just couldn’t be bothered to give a shit about some swotty Death Eater getting his comeuppance.By then, the other boy, the beautiful boy, was dead.No, not dead.Worse than dead.Had never been real in the first place.And so all that was left were the bad, twisted feelings I had towards Malfoy, the Slytherin shit.Both Harry and Hermione tried to persuade me to speak at his trial, and I distinctly remember actually laughing in Hermione’s face, and attempting to punch Harry in the nose. 

 

The list of Malfoy’s crimes went on forever.It started with the attempted murder of Katharine Bell and Ronald Weasley.Using an Unforgivable against Madame Rosemerta.Aiding and abetting trespassers in Hogwarts.Then shit got bad.Malfoy had been charged as an accessory to the murder of dozens of people, starting with Albus Dumbledore and trailing on and on from there.It was so fucking overwhelming, I couldn’t focus on the names to properly read them, but individuals still jumped out at me.Colin Creevey.Remus Lupin.Nymphadora Tonks.Lavender Brown.

 

Fred Weasley.

 

 **FRED WEASLEY**.

 

I don’t know how long I sat there, back propped against the headboard of my bed, staring blankly at the wall.Too long.

 

Long enough for numbness to creep into my joints, shooting pinpricks of pain through my body at the slightest shift in position.Too bad my mind and heart hadn’t been numbed, too.

 

Seeing those names, laid out in one spot like that - it was too much.No one should be confronted with that gaping, aching loss in such a stark manner.

 

The need to rant and rave, for violence, to rampage in a fit of temper and fury, was overpowering.I hadn’t felt so out of control since before Auror training, when I let my emotions rule my physical reactions about 99% of the time.I lurched to my feet, wobbling on tingling, unsteady legs, and found myself standing in front of Malfoy’s door.Was I about to rage at Malfoy, or for him?

 

It opened immediately.No magical locking system for him, being a wandless prisoner and all. 

 

I’m not sure what I expected to find when I burst into the room.Malfoy sitting in bed, plotting and scheming like back in Hogwarts?Or maybe I had hoped for a contrite, anxious Malfoy, hovering on the edge of his bed, awaiting my inevitable visit after reading his file?

 

The room was very dark.It always had been, due to weird window placement and it’s position in the house.Sunlight seemed unable to permeate the room, until the later hours of the morning.That’s one of the reasons why Charlie liked to stay here, instead of the Burrow, when he came to England for a visit.

 

The faint glow of the hallway light slicing through the cracked door threw a small sliver of brightness over Malfoy’s bed.He was still so slight, I almost missed him, curled up into a small ball with his knees to his chest.One hand was under his pillow, the other up at his face, covering his mouth.For a moment it looked like he was sucking his thumb, and I thought of poor, parentless Teddy Lupin, fist jammed into his mouth, pondering the adults in his life with sad, seeking eyes, never finding what he was searching for.

 

The raging fire fuelling my body died out, extinguished in an instant.I slid down the door, landing on my ass with a thump.It wasn’t Malfoy I was mad at.It was this whole bloody awful situation, the bullshite I had read in his file, the stitched up wounds ripped open and exposed once more at the names of my friends, my family, lost forever.But, no matter what was written on that parchment, legally binding and backed by the signatures of the Wizengamot, the Head Auror, the Minister for Magic himself, I didn’t believe it.That wasn’t Malfoy, I knew that deep in my bones.He was a prick, yeah.A coward, definitely.A narcissistic, blustering, prejudice twat of a human being, but he wasn’t a murderer. 

 

I crawled to the toilet, making it just in time to lose the Shepherd’s pie and salad I had brought home that evening. 

 

My meeting tomorrow with Shacklebolt would be interesting, if nothing else.

 

~~~***~~~

 

“You wanted to discuss the conditions at Azkaban?” Kingsley Shacklebolt asked calmly.His hands were steepled before him on the desk, and he had a vague, politely interested look on his face.

 

I took a deep breath.“That’s why I booked this meeting, yeah.But, I have something else I’d like the bring up, if that’s ok?”He nodded, looking more curious.“It’s about Mal - Draco Malfoy, sir.Well... I read his file, and-“

 

“Ronald Weasley!” Shacklebolt barked, and I swear, I reverted in age about ten years.If he added the middle name of ‘Bilius’, I probably would have started sobbing.“Don’t tell me you just read Malfoy’s file.Don’t tell me you had a prisoner released into your care, without knowing all the facts.Don’t tell me-“

 

“Ok, I won’t tell you,” I interrupted cheekily.Raised my eyebrows and flashed a grin, trying to exude a confidence I in no way felt. 

 

Shacklebolt sighed and shook his head.“Continue.”

 

Another deep breath.This would have to be worded delicately.I didn’t want to get on anyone’s bad side.“Malfoy’s file... those charges against him... well, they’re utter shit, aren’t they?Complete, bollocksy shit.”Oops, so much for subtlety.Words and speeches never had been my forte.

 

Shacklebolt studied me for a while.Probably just a few seconds, but it seemed longer, as I dripped sweat and waited to be terminated from the only job I’d ever known or really wanted.Finally, his shoulders slumped just a bit, and he answered, in an honest way, “yeah, I know.”

 

I’d been mentally drafting an ass-kissing apology in my head, so I was caught off guard.“What?”How eloquent.

 

“Most of the charges against Malfoy were... excessive,” he said cautiously.Then he cast a Muffilato charm in the office, and I knew I was about to hear something above my security clearance.“There was a big push, from the public, for culpability regarding Dumbledore’s death.Who was to blame?Severus Snape cast the curse, but Harry came forward with Snape’s pensive memories, and had him exonerated.Made him out to be a hero, actually.”Shacklebolt shook his head again.“Harry also spoke for Draco, of course.But Harry’s own testimony ended up damning Malfoy.No one else knew what happened on the tower that night.Harry was an eyewitness to Malfoy threatening Dumbledore with a wand.Someone suggested that there would have been a lot less death had Dumbledore not been killed.Voldemort was already dead.The Wizengamot leaped at the chance to use Lucius Malfoy’s son as a scapegoat.”

 

“Don’t tell Harry that,” I muttered.It would kill him.

 

Kingsley scoffed, “I’m not that dumb.” 

 

It was quiet for a few minutes, while I turned the new information over in my head.“So, now what?” I asked, and Shacklebolt’s eyes snapped up to my face.“We agree that justice has not been fulfilled, right?I mean, Malfoy’s supposed to go back to Azkaban in just over a week.If we could-“

 

“Wait.Ron, just wait.”Kingsley interrupted, a pensive look on his face.“Malfoy’s not... I thought you said you read the file.”

 

Oh shit.Caught again.I lowered my eyes and squirmed in my chair.“Well... most of it, yeah.”

 

“Most of it,” Shacklebolt echoed.

 

I hated when people were disappointed in me.“I, um, read all the charges and stuff.”

 

Shacklebolt leaned forward, angling his body towards me, and asked, with a fair bit of urgency, “but not the sentencing?You didn’t get that far?”

 

“No,” I admitted. 

 

Kingsley closed his eyes and pursed his lips.He looked pained.“I thought you knew,” he whispered, and he was suddenly not the Minister for Magic, but just an old friend, like when we gathered around the Black kitchen table at Order headquarters, commiserating over unexpected bad news.“I never would have allowed this, let him be released to your care, if I suspected otherwise.”

 

“Allowed what?” I demanded, a little alarmed.“Thought I knew what?”

 

“Malfoy isn’t going back to Azkaban, Ron.He’s been convicted of all crimes, and sentenced by the Wizengamot.His camp has two weeks to file their appeals and mount any last fights, possibly drawing things out a little longer, but there doesn’t seem to be any activity coming from that side.”

 

I didn’t want to hear it, but I needed to know.“What was the sentence?”

 

“The Kiss,” Shacklebolt said quietly.He cleared his throat, and repeated, in a much sturdier, professional voice.“Draco Malfoy has been sentenced to the Dementor’s Kiss.It will take place at the conclusion of his two week appeal period, which is nine days from today.”

 

Nine days.That’s what Draco Malfoy’s life had been reduced too?Nine lousy days.

 

My head started swimming, so I closed my eyes, and everything faded to black.

 

~~~***~~~

 

Harry was there when I woke up.Of course he was.Harry was always there for me, whenever I needed him the most. 

 

“He’s coming around,” Harry said, as I started to stir.Somehow I was still upright in my chair, although leaning heavily on my best mate. 

 

“Take him home,” Kingsley said, in his rich baritone.“Let him know I’ll try toget an extension on Draco Malfoy’s release.Will I see you at Molly and Arthur’s on Sunday?”

 

Harry stood and gripped me tightly under the armpits, pulling me to my feet.He gave me a sad smile, before turning to Shacklebolt.“Yeah, we’ll both be there.”

 

“Good.Use my personal floo to get him home.”

 

“I fucking hate floo travel,” Harry muttered, pulling me along.He had always been pants at using the floo.I expected to land in a tumbled heap when we arrived at my house.

 

Thankfully, we remained upright, and Harry steered me into the living room.I felt him tense up behind me as he stepped out of the floo.“Malfoy,” he said stiffly.I raised my head and caught sight on the slender blond, still drastically underweight despite the scant padding he gained from regular access to home cooked meals, poised in the doorway leading to the kitchen.

 

I looked at him as objectively as possible.Malfoy’s appearance had improved substantially from our first meeting in Azkaban. He was clean, and properly clothed, and his sores and wounds were pretty much healed.His hair still hung around his face in clumps.That was my fault, I hadn’t given him Hermione’s hair Potion yet.At least his face had filled out a little, although it had always been rather pointy.He reached forward with one hand, a concerned look on his face, and my chest tightened.It must be a dream, because the real Draco Malfoy had never, would never, glance at me with anything less than disdain.This was my mind playing tricks on me, serving up the angelic, pretty version of Malfoy that I had thought was dead and buried.

 

“What happened to him?” Malfoy asked.He sounded accusatory, which was either extremely brave, or extremely stupid, questioning the Saviour like that. 

 

Harry dropped me onto the sofa and stood up straight, glaring back at Malfoy.“Rough day at the Ministry,” he bit out.“Not my fault.If you are looking for someone to blame, you can-“

 

The reply was so caustic, this couldn’t be a daydream.I interrupted quickly before Harry could say anything stupid.“I’m fine, Malfoy.Nothing that can’t be cured with some rest and a hot mug of tea.”

 

“Can you make some for us?” Harry asked blandly, as if the previous outburst hadn’t happened. 

 

“I uh...”. Malfoy fiddled with the cuff of his left shirt sleeve.After watching him for five days, I knew he was longing to pick at the scab on his forearm.He looked defiantly at Harry and spit out, “I can’t, ok?I don’t know how.”

 

“Fine.Fine!” Harry replied huffily.“I’ll do it.Just... keep an eye on him.”Harry stomped off to the kitchen.

 

“Put in a big splash of milk and one sugar,” Malfoy called after him.

 

“I know how my best mate likes his fucking tea Malfoy.” Harry’s voiced echoedcaustically from the kitchen.“I suppose you’d like a mug too?”

 

“A drop of milk and four sugars for Malfoy,” I said before the other man could answer.He held my gaze for a couple of seconds before letting his eyes slide away.It was normal, each of us knowing how the other liked their tea, right?I mean, we were living together, in a sense. In a lower voice, I asked him, “you really can’t make tea?”

 

“I can’t make anything,” he muttered.

 

My brain worked overtime to process that, coming up with a conclusion I didn’t like at all.“So, while I’m at work, or not home, what do you... do you eat anything?”

 

“Not really,” Malfoy shrugged.

 

Eating and regular meals were such a large part of my world, I was having a hard time fathoming this.“Not even a yogurt or bit of cheese from the fridge?”

 

“I’ve never opened the fridge.I’m scared to.I don’t know how it works.”Malfoy’s honesty took me by surprise.I stared at him, wide eyed, until he continued, “sometimes I’ll have a piece of fruit, if there is any on the counter.”

 

That just wouldn’t do.“Ok.I should have thought of that.From now on, I’ll leave something out for you, under a stasis charm, and you can eat it whenever you want.You need to put on some weight, and skipping meals isn’t gonna help that.”

 

Malfoy looked anguished.“Why are you doing this?” he whispered.“Why all the meals, and the clothes, and the healing?It’s a waste of your time.I’ll be gone in less than-“

 

“Don’t,” I cried out, much louder than necessary.“I... just... don’t think about that, or talk about that, right now.”

 

“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes at me.It cut the tension, which was good, since Harry arrived back in the living room with tea at just that moment. 

 

“If you are feeling better, I’m going to head back to work,” Harry said, as he handed out the mugs of steaming tea.“I’ll see you at the Burrow on Sunday, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” I parroted, sending another glance Malfoy’s way.I wished I could bring him along for one of Mum’s Sunday brunches.But his collar prevented him from leaving the house at all, even from going into the back garden.Another thing to discuss with Shacklebolt - Malfoy should have a chance to enjoy fresh outdoor air, at the very least.

 

“Do you want me to fix your hair?” I asked gently, hoping he wouldn’t start in on pointlessness of it all.

 

Malfoy fingered a large gnarl of tangles that reached down past his chin.“That would be...nice,” he replied haltingly. 

 

I scootched up onto the back of the couch and perched behind him, my legs bracketing his body.“Accio hair Potion. Accio comb.”The bottle zoomed into my outstretched hand with a sturdy thump, followed quickly by the comb from my bathroom.I dumped half the bottle on Malfoy’s head, working it into the knots diligently with my fingertips.Then I started to comb it all out, little bits at a time.It was painstaking work, but soothing, in its own way. Malfoy sat rigid, not moving except to breathe.Eventually I upended the rest of the bottle into his hair, and even the most stubborn clumps responded to the comb, laying flat and shiny against Malfoy’s head.

 

“There,” I said, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze.It felt bony and insubstantial under my hand.“All done. I hope that wasn’t too painful.”

 

Malfoy practically jumped from the couch, turning and standing stiffly before me.“Thank you,” he said formally.His Adam’s apple bobbed once on a thick swallow, and I tracked the movement.“Good night.”

 

He raced from the room, and after mere moments, I heard the door to the spare bedroom slam shut behind him. 

 

~~~***~~~

 

Sunday found me at my childhood home, surrounded by siblings and friends.The Burrow.It had always been a place of happy memories for me, regardless of our lack of Galleons.I felt safe and loved here.

 

Usually I ate too much food, drank too much ale, and spoke way too loudly.This time was different.I was in a contemplative mood all through brunch.I saw more than one questioning look thrown my way, but I shrugged them all off.“I’m fine,” I insisted.“I just have a lot on my mind.”I locked eyes with Kingsley, and he nodded grimly. 

 

He found Harry and I outside by the shed, which held an odd assortment of Quidditch gear, garden supplies, and muggle junk smuggled home by my Father.Peeking in the window brought me back to simpler times, when my biggest worry was an out of-date racing broom.

 

“Draco Malfoy’s been awarded an additional two weeks before his sentence is carried out,” Shacklebolt said with no preamble.Straight to the point; I liked it.

 

“That gives me three weeks,” I replied.

 

“To do what?” Harry asked.My expression must have been less than friendly, as he continued, “no offence intended, Ron. It’s just that three weeks isn’t a long time.What exactly are you hoping to accomplish?”

 

Fucked if I knew.“You saw him, Harry.You saw him, that first day, the condition he was in.It was supposed to be better, after the war.Things were supposed to improve, be less corrupt.But Azkaban...it’s still so awful.”I felt like that was a vast understatement.

 

“It’s a prison, Ron.Filled with the most vile of our kind; murderers and Death Eaters and the like.It’s not meant to be nice.”

 

“Do you believe Malfoy is a murderer?” I spat out, furious all of a sudden.“I mean, you spoke at his trial.Do you really think he deserves to be imprisoned, let alone basically tortured in that festering shithole of Azkaban?”Harry took a step back, and I realized I was leaning forward, snarling into his face, my hands balled into fists at my sides.

 

“Calm the fuck down, Ron,” Harry said with a sigh.“Of course I don’t think Malfoy belongs in Azkaban; I never did.”Harry’s face was marred by an expression I was all too familiar with - like the weight of the world still rest on his shoulders.“I just don’t think anyone else agrees with us.”

 

“Kingsley does,” I said, tilting my head at the other man, who has witnessed our exchange in silence. 

 

Harry raised his eyebrows, and Shacklebolt nodded in agreement.He quickly held up a hand before he stated, in a calm voice, “not that I can be viewed as taking sides, as Minister for Magic, before the evidence is gathered and presented.I will do my best to help you behind the scenes, but that is really all I can promise.”He met both our gazes with a stony stare.“You do understand what I’m saying, boys?”

 

“Yes sir,” I replied. 

 

“Excellent. Good luck to you.Meanwhile, I’ll investigate the protocols of Azkaban.Discreetly, of course.Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Molly I’d return promptly for a spot of treacle tart.”

 

Harry’s head sprung up.“There’s treacle tart?” he asked eagerly.I don’t know why he was surprised; Mum always made Harry’s favourite pudding when she knew he’d be over.

 

Watching them amble back to the house, I knew how lucky I was to have these powerful, competent, trustworthy wizards at my side.But in the long run, this was my problem, or set of problems, to solve.

 

Terrifying concept, that.

 

~~~***~~~

 

Mum sent me with enough leftovers, frozen meals, and baked goods to feed a whole Hogwarts House.She didn’t mention Malfoy directly, but as I was leaving, she did pat my arm and give me a sad smile.“I’m proud of you, Ronald.It’s not an easy thing you are doing”.I’m not sure if she meant babysitting Malfoy, or if she had caught wind of my feeble baby steps towards evoking a change, but either way, her words warmed my heart.Molly Weasley was not known for holding back on giving direct and emphatic advice. Her composed faith in me was a welcome morale boost.

 

Malfoy’s eyes widened and his eyebrows flew up when he saw the volume of food I returned with.He helped stack things on the counter, but fumbled when it came to properly storing and putting the food away.I handed him a cinnamon roll to keep his hands occupied while I got organized, and snuck one for myself while I was at it.

 

As I unrolled and savoured my treat, I stole glances at Malfoy.He nibbled at the end of his cinnamon roll cautiously.I had to resist the urge to roll a chunk off and stick it his mouth.

 

Finally he took a larger bite, and chewed thoughtfully.“This is really good, Weasley. What exactly is it?”

 

“It’s a tea biscuit cinnamon roll,” I replied with a smile.They reminded me of Christmases at the Burrow as a small boy, wrapped up in a blanket beside the tree, sipping hot cocoa and devouring cinnamon rolls straight out of the oven.“An old family recipe Mum likes to make, usually for special occasions.They’re my favourite.”

 

“Huh,” Malfoy said, looking down at his hands and placing the roll on the counter.

 

“What?What’s wrong?”

 

“Your Mother made these for you.I shouldn’t be eating them.”

 

Draco Malfoy, you do not know Molly Weasley very well.I laughed a little, and said, “do you honestly think I get sent home with this much food every week?This isn’t for me, it’s for you!”

 

Malfoy’s head snapped up.“Yes, Malfoy.My Mother is worried about you.Probably thinks you are being subjected to horrid takeaways and cardboard microwave meals, as if I am not the only one of her children who ever showed an interest in learning to cook.”I shrugged my shoulders.Parents, what could you do?

 

“She wouldn’t care about me, I’m sure,” Malfoy said stiltedly.

 

“Oh, she would, not that you deserve it, what with the rude shit you’ve said about her.”Oh, it was fun to watch Malfoy squirm.It seemed like the little blond Slytherin did have a conscience after all. “You vastly underestimate her love of caring for strays.”

 

“Huh,” Malfoy said again, seeming at a loss for words.It’s not everyday a Pureblood supremacist gets overfed by a blood traitor.

 

“Can I make you a plate?” I asked.

 

Malfoy shook his head.“I’m not all that hungry, thank you.I think I’ll go take a nap.”

 

“Yeah, ok,” I said awkwardly.“Hey, before you go, I have some news.”Malfoy looked at me guardedly.“Your...time here.It’s been extended for another two weeks.An official announcement will be made by the Ministry on Monday.”

 

Malfoy sucked in a huge gust of breath, then let it out slowly, closing his eyes.His hands gripped the table in front of him, white knuckled and faintly trembling.“Someone is protesting my sentencing, then?”

 

“Yes,” I said, and Malfoy’s eyes opened and locked with mine.I continued, in a quiet, hushed tone, “someone is protesting your sentencing”.

 

Those silver-grey eyes stared at me, searchingly, like the man they belonged to was trying to read my soul.“Perhaps your Mother is not the only Weasley with a propensity for helping strays,” Malfoy whispered, as he reached out and grazed the back of my hand with a feather light touch.

 

Before I could react, he rushed out of the kitchen, brushing against my arm during his retreat.My stomach flipped over erratically, and it had nothing to do with the immense volume of food I had consumed at the Burrow earlier.

 

~~~***~~~

 

Every Wizarding criminal and petty burglar in England came out of the woodwork the next week, leaving the Aurors run off their feet.My case load had grown dramatically.So tall was the stack of unfinished paperwork in my inbox, I was barely able to see Hermione when she showed up on Thursday with curry takeaway.

 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Ronald,” she said, as she moved some random files from the chair across the desk from me.

 

“I know, I know,” I murmured around a mouthful of chicken curry.Merlin, it tasted delicious.I’d been leaving plates of Mum’s leftovers out for Malfoy all week under stasis charms, and had been resorting to soggy sandwiches from the cafeteria for myself.“I’ve just been-“

 

“Busy.I can see that.”Hermione flicked her wand, and the towers of files on my desk flew gracefully into the corner of the cubicle, stacked much more neatly than I had managed.“With the increased arrests, our department is chaotic as well.”

 

That’s what I loved about Hermione; she didn’t hold a grudge.Well, anymore, I should say.I did still remember those birds she set at me.But since we talked through our relationship, and decided we made more sense as friends, Hermione and I were much better at expressing our thoughts and emotions to each other.

 

“Draco Malfoy’s...circumstances..the extension on his...”

 

“Execution?Murder?” I asked wryly.“Go ahead and call it like it is, Hermione.You’ve never been one to mince words.”

 

“Yes, right,” she muttered, blushing a bit.“Anyway, it’s the hot topic of gossip in my area of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.No one was expecting a challenge on the sentencing.”She looked at me knowingly.“I wonder what happened?”

 

“You would make a horrible detective,” I said, laughing.She stuck out her tongue before laughing with me.“Since you brought the subject up, I have a favour to ask”.

 

Just then Harry Potter burst through the door, holding his side and panting.“Sorry.I’m.Late,” he said between lung fulls of air.Hermione and I grinned at each other while we waited for Harry to catch his breath.“Hey, is that curry I smell?” he asked, perking up considerably. 

 

“You two, honestly,” Hermione grumbled good-naturedly while preparing a plate for Harry.“Every meal you treat like your last.”

 

“Being an Auror is dangerous business, sweetheart,” Harry replied in a low, throaty voice, shooting her a wink.Hermione dissolved into giggles, and it was just like old times again.

 

“Ron was just about to ask me for a favour,” Hermione said to Harry when she regained her composure.

 

“I was going to ask you both a favour, actually,” I admitted.“Would you be willing to speak on Draco Malfoy’s behalf?Publicly?”

 

Hermione didn’t even hesitate.“Of course I would, Ron.I testified at his trial, and I’d be willing to do so again.He may be a spectacular git, but he doesn’t deserve the harsh punishment he was sentenced to, any idiot can see that.”

 

“I agree,” Harry said. 

 

“Wait a minute, though,” I cautioned, “you aren’t thinking this through.At Draco’s trial, you were fresh out of Hogwarts.You didn’t have prestigious jobs that could be affected by your testimony.”Hermione’s lips grew thin.“It’s a big risk.Is it...is he, worth it?”

 

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look.Hermione spoke first.“Ron, I don’t know if Malfoy is worth me losing my job over.I can tell you that I am sick of the corruption and miscarriage of justice I see in my department, and the Ministry as a whole.And that’s something worth fighting for, regardless of the outcome.”

 

Harry nodded.“We’re behind you one hundred percent, mate.Just tell us what you need. What’s the plan?”

 

I’d never been a crier, but my eyes felt a little moist in that moment.“Nothing concrete yet.I’m mulling over some ideas, determining the best strategy.”Basically I was mapping the problem out like a huge game of chess, trying to anticipate all the moves and counter moves. 

 

“Right now, I’d just like you both to preserve some memories for me, so they can be viewed by pensieve.Everyone knows how difficult it is to modify or tamper with a memory.They might have more weight than verbal testimony.”I turned to Hermione.“I’m sorry, ‘Mione.I need to ask you for some painful memories.”

 

“I can handle it,” she said, her mouth quirking up on one side. 

 

I knew she could.There was no one tougher than Hermione Granger.“Ok.Could you catalogue our time at Malfoy Manor, when the Snatchers caught us?How Draco didn’t identify you, even when prompted?And maybe the Room of Requirement, with the Fiendfyre?”

 

“Of course,” she whispered.

 

I gripped her hand, giving it a firm squeeze, before turning my attention to Harry.“I can preserve those memories too,” he offered, before I could speak.“And you’ll also be wanting the night on the Astronomy Tower, I reckon?”

 

“That would be great, thanks,” I smiled.“I would also like your memory of what Draco looked like when I brought him home from Azkaban.”Harry paled considerably, but nodded his head.

 

We sat in a sober silence, finishing the last of our curry.Finally Hermione stood and announced, “we all better get back to work.”

 

“Thank you,” I said to my two best friends.Harry patted me on the shoulder as he left for his own cubicle. 

 

Hermione lingered a little longer, hovering in the doorway with an indecisive look on her face. I was just about to make a joke, when she asked, quietly, “how long have you been thinking of Malfoy as Draco?”

 

I opened my mouth to answer, but no sound came out.Finally I was able to utter a creaky, “Hermione...”. It wasn’t an explanation - more like a plea.For what, I wasn’t sure.

 

“Be careful, Ron,” she said, giving me a worried smile.

 

~~~***~~~

 

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone so much,” I said to Malfoy...to Draco that evening when I stepped out of the floo.It was the first time I had been home before 10 p.m. since Sunday.

 

Draco looked startled, his grey eyes wide and burning bright.Mum’s cooking had done him a world of good.His face had filled out, so his cheekbones were just pronounced as opposed to glass-cutting sharp.But he still had purple rings around his eyes, giving him a worn-out look.“No need to apologize to me, Weasley,” he said.Almost scoffed.Like the Hogwarts Draco Malfoy, full of life and swagger.

 

“I know.Still, I feel bad.I hope you haven’t been too bored.”He just stared at me incredulously, his arms crossed over his chest.“I...uh..noticed you’ve read most of my books.”Not that there was much to choose from.“Hermione brought some she thought you might like.Here,” I said, shoving Hermione’s magically enhanced tote at him. 

 

Draco gripped the bag and brought it to his chest.“Granger lent me books?”

 

“Yeah.Knowing her taste, there’ll be loads of dry old history books and some boring law texts,” I said, trying to make a joke.

 

Draco didn’t laugh.He didn’t even crack a smile.He just...stood there, small and a little overwhelmed.“Please pass along my gratitude,” he said formally.

 

“You can borrow Pig and tell her yourself.”At his confused look, I gestured to the bird perch and cage standing next to the floo.“Pig’s my owl.He’ll deliver a note for you.He can always find Hermione.”

 

“I’m not sure I’m supposed to be sending correspondence.”

 

“Whatever.They put you under my watch, and I say it’s fine.Tough if they don’t agree.”My voice turned hard at the end, and Draco tilted his head and gazed at me, like he was pondering a particularly difficult Transfiguration assignment. 

 

“Fine.I’ll...see.”He nodded once, stiffly, and went upstairs to his room.

 

I followed soon after.I had a lot to mull over, and with how mental work had been, I’d been doing my best thinking at night before falling to sleep.

 

Kingsley had sent a memo soon after Harry and Hermione had left my office, requesting a meeting for the following afternoon.The note was typically generic, giving nothing away, and so I was anxious to learn what his investigation into Azkaban had unearthed.That information might figure into my plans.

 

At the present, I was working on securing character witnesses for Draco.Harry and Hermione were in, as per our conversation earlier.I was also kicking around the possibility of contacting Professor Slughorn and Headmistress McGonagall. 

 

Even if McGonagall was unable or unwilling to speak on Draco’s behalf, I was hoping she could grant me access to someone who would.Or maybe two someones.Both Dumbledore and Snape had portraits in the Head of Hogwarts office.Historically speaking, portraits were not considered admissible witnesses in criminal cases.But as character witnesses, I might have a shot.Plus, they were both war heroes, with Dumbledore being the foremost wizard of the generation.Their testimony certainly couldn’t do any harm.

 

Like a chess match, it all hinged on a number of ‘ifs’.If McGonagall approved my request and allowed me access to the portraits.If Snape would even bother to speak to me.He certainly didn’t have much use for me when I was his student.And most importantly, if Dumbledore could support Harry’s version of what happened that fateful night on the Astronomy Tower.

 

I was contemplating my bad luck of being an adult Auror still scared of Snape in portrait form when I drifted off to sleep.

 

My dream was particularly lucid that evening.I dreamt of the golden boy from my childhood; the one with the sweet smile. But this time, he was scrawny and pale with bruises around his eyes and a metal collar choking his neck.He kept reaching out for me, scabbed arm extended to grab my hand, but no matter how fast I ran, I was never able to close the gap between us.He remained smiling, even though I could see he was in pain.His blond hair waved gently in the wind, falling over his forehead, and I longed to brush it back.But I just couldn’t reach.Eventually, he realized I’d never catch up, never get there, and his sweet smile was replaced with one of rueful acceptance. “We were never meant to be,” he called out, and I physically felt my heart break. Once when I was young, I fell off my broom from a great height, and landed flat on my back.All the air was knocked from my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t catch a breath. Every bone, muscle, and tissue in my body ached. That’s how I felt hearing, “were never meant to be...never meant to be,” echoed over and over again on the wind, while the ethereal blond boy drew further and further away.

 

I woke in the morning on a wet pillow, with salty tracks staining my face, and a throbbing migraine.

 

~~~***~~~

 

“You look like shit,” Kingsley stated when I walked into his office.

 

“Cheers, mate,” I replied, flopping into the vacant chair. “You look a little rough around the edges as well.”

 

“Yeah, well I’ve had the week from hell,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face.“Merlin, Ron.The Azkaban investigation opened up a whole rotten can of worms.”At my confused look, he explained, “muggle expression.”

 

Muggles have canned worms?For what purpose, exactly?I shook my head, refocusing on the matter at hand.“Good news, or bad?”

 

“The worst.You were right,” he said simply, and rather sadly.“The conditions at Azkaban are bloody appalling.Protocol is not being followed.It’s a fucking mess, to be quite frank.”

 

I was shocked speechless by Shacklebolt’s foul language.Kingsley was usually so articulate and even-tempered.The perfect Minister for Magic.So it must be bad.Worse than bad.What Kingsley discovered must be godawful.

 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do!” he exploded, thumping his hands on his desk.“This runs so deep.The corruption, the secrets and deals and mistreatment.For Merlin’s sake, Ron, a quarter of the Auror Department is suspect, maybe more.To make matters worse, some highly positioned wizards and witches of the Wizengamot appear to have acted unfairly.The whole Department of Magical Law Enforcement might need an overhaul.”He dropped his head and buried it in his hands.“I trusted these people.”

 

I’d dealt with Harry enough over the years to know where this was going.“It’s not your fault.”All I got for an answer was a snort, so I repeated, “no, it’s not your fault.You are only one man.You can’t be everywhere at once.You’ve done a world of good in these last two years.” 

 

He looked up at me, with a glimmer of hope.“I don’t want to be like Fudge, with my head stuck in the sand, refusing to acknowledge the truth.”

 

“No worries there,” I said.“When I brought my concerns to your attention, you opened an investigation right away, even though you hoped I was full of shit.Fudge never would have done that.”

 

“You’re right,” Kingsley said, pulling himself up to sit straighter in his chair.He looked like the stately, well put-together Minister once more.“We’re going to fix this.I’ve already got the ball rolling at Azkaban.Totally new staff, as of this morning.”

 

I looked at him incredulously.“Really?That’s...wow.How did you manage that?”

 

“Azkaban had one Auror in charge, acting as Warden.One!One man, with absolute power, and no one to answer to.A man named,” Kingsley rustled through his papers, “Samuel Roddick.It was his job to create a rota amoung the Aurors to form a guard at the prison.Well, old Sam decided that just wouldn’t do.He hired out for guards.Employed some pretty disturbed, sick individuals.He tried to clean things up a bit when other Aurors came to call.I don’t know what happened when you went to pick up Draco Malfoy, something must have slipped through the cracks.”

 

“Maybe,” I said slowly, processing the information.“But more likely, they thought I wouldn’t mind the condition Draco was in.On the contrary, I think it was assumed that Draco would be punished quite severely under my watch.” I felt sick again just saying it.

 

Kingsley nodded, folding his hands into his lap.His eyes were slightly glazed.“Yes, that makes sense,” he said, almost to himself. Then he focused on me again.“Other high profile prisoners, who have received similar sentencing to Draco Malfoy, were also released into Auror care, as you well know.This was initially pitched to me as a way to increase space in Azkaban, while providing death-sentenced prisoners a final stint of time out of a cell.”

 

“Nice in theory,” I said.

 

“Exactly,” Shacklebolt agreed.“And honest Aurors, like you and Harry, would do your best to be civil, and uphold the spirit of the release.Unfortunately, I fear others have taken advantage of their power, and abused prisoners assigned to their care.”

 

I swallowed heavily, trying to calm his roiling stomach.“Who decided where the prisoners would be placed?It’s obviously not random.This is a well thought out scheme.”

 

“Members of the Wizengamot, working together with a senior staff member of the DMLE.Names are still hush-hush at this point.The investigation isn’t complete.”

 

“Right,” I said, trying to wrap my head around the depth of the corruption.I didn’t envy Kingsley one bit.“But you did say Azkaban has been sorted?”

 

“Yes,” Kingsley replied, smiling for the first time that day.“Roddick has been replaced with three retired Aurors.Good wizards, who I’ve worked with, and trust with my life.One of these ex-Aurors will be present at Azkaban at all times.The problem of guards is a little trickier to solve.For now, we’ve got Auror trainees taking it in shifts, but a more permanent solution will need to be put in place soon.”

 

Merlin, it all sounded so daunting, just thinking about it made me weary.I wanted to drop my head to my arms on Kingsley’s desk and take a nap.I had no idea the storm I would stir up, back when I walked into this office two weeks ago, all because of Draco Malfoy.

 

“So what now?” I asked sluggishly.

 

“Well, that depends on you,” Shacklebolt said.“How involved do you want to be?”

 

I had a bad feeling about this.“I don’t know,” I replied honestly.“There are times I wish that I never went to Azkaban that day, never picked up Draco Malfoy.Or at least never opened my mouth about what I saw.But then, other times, I’m...I’m glad it was me.And that I had the bollocks to speak up.”

 

“Believe me, Ronald, I’m glad it was you, too.And, for what it’s worth, you should be very proud of yourself.I’d like you to be part of the restructuring at Azkaban, if you are willing.”

 

“Hmmmm,” I hummed, playing for time.Did I really want to spend time at that dank prison, even if it was for a noble cause?“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“Please do,” Kingsley said, dropping his head and scratching a note on a piece of parchment.“Now, how are things going with the other matter?”

 

My mind had been racing like a jinxed Firebolt since the start of the meeting, trying to use the new information in a way that would help Draco.And I thought I had an idea.“Well, I was thinking.In light of the corruption uncovered in the DMLE, I wonder if now might be a good time to demand a review of Draco’s case.Maybe the Aurors were a little too outlandish, levelling all those murder charges at a man who didn’t actually kill anyone during the war?And maybe the Wizengamot was a little too hasty, finding that man guilty?”

 

“Sounds entirely plausible,” Shacklebolt smiled.“I’m sure you’ll find an eager young member of the DMLE to help you.”

 

“I know just the person,” I said, picturing Hermione in all her do-goodery splendour. It hadn’t escaped my mind that she recommended me for Draco’s release.Maybe she knew more than she was letting on. “But will the investigation be complete in time to help Draco?”

 

“Probably not.But since you have shown interest in upholding the new, improved standards at Azkaban,” he shot me a wink while I rolled my eyes, “and you are a top Junior Auror, who I have personal trust in, it is entirely plausible for me to make you privy to top secret information regarding the ongoing investigation.”

 

Wow. That was just...wow.Yeah.“Thank you, Kingsley,” I murmured, my neck flushing red.“I won’t let you down”.Or Draco.I hoped.

 

“I’m more worried about you letting yourself down, if you set your expectations too high,” he said seriously.“I don’t see Draco Malfoy walking away from this scott-free.There is still a chance that his sentencing will be completed as ordered.”

 

Right now I’d be happy if Draco wasn’t scheduled to have his soul sucked from his body in two weeks.“I’m trying to remain optimistically realistic.”Something I hadn’t been very good at, in the past.

 

“And that’s just one more reason why I have such confidence in you,” Shacklebolt said, and my chest flooded with warmth.

 

~~~***~~~

 

I knew I should fill Draco in, but I really didn’t want to. For some reason, it was easier to communicate with the most influential wizards and witches, like the Minister for Magic and Headmistress of Hogwarts, than to have a conversation with the prisoner under my care.

 

On a positive note, McGonagall had come through, assuring me of her support.And apparently Dumbledore and Snape were quite eager to help as well.The Headmistress had volunteered to speak with both portraits and preserve the memory of each conversation for my perusal.She was even willing to ask specific questions I provided, saving me a lot of time and hassle.

 

What I needed before chatting with Draco was a way to butter him up.“Hey, Harry.Still working?” I asked as I stuck my head over his cubicle wall.

 

“Yeah,” he sighed, massaging his neck a little.“I want to get all my paperwork done before I leave for the weekend.I’m off both days, barring an utter catastrophe.What’s up?”

 

“Do you have an old pair of glasses kicking around?”I knew he probably did.When he finally upgraded his much-abused pair from childhood, after receiving his first Auror paycheck, Hermione and I had encouraged him to chuck the old ones in the bin.Harry was reluctant in the extreme, and became more and more shifty the harder we pushed.Finally he admitted that the Dursleys had made such a big deal about providing them to him, had made him work so hard to ‘help pay them off’, that he viewed those glasses as extremely valuable.I couldn’t imagine it had gotten any easier for him with time.

 

“I do,” he answered slowly.“Why do you ask?”

 

I didn’t want to admit that I’d noticed Draco squinting while he read, holding the books abnormally close to his face.“Oh, I just know someone who could use help with their eyesight,” I said airily.

 

Harry smiled.“You have no idea how glasses work, do you?Everyone’s eyes are different, Ron.Each pair of glasses works only for the person they were made for.”

 

“Really?That’s weird,” I said, feeling perplexed.“Percy used to borrow Bill’s all the time, until Mum and Dad could afford to get him a pair of his own.The lenses were charmed to suit the vision of the person wearing them.”

 

Harry gaped at me for a moment.“Magical eyeglasses?There is such a thing as magical eyeglasses?”

 

“Yes, of course, you dolt.Have you been replacing yours with muggle specs all this time?”

 

“I...I don’t even want to talk about it,” Harry mumbled.Then I heard him murmur “magical glasses” multiple times under his breath in wonder.

 

“I’ll ask Mum about it, we’ll get you set up.”I was pretty sure Percy had gone to St Mungos for his specs, but I’d double check. 

 

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied, a wide smile on his face.“Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”

 

I shrugged and returned his smile.“No worries, mate.Just wanted to help a friend read easier, that all.”

 

“Oh, well that I may be able to help you with.Sounds like your ‘friend’ is farsighted.”The way Harry emphasized the word friend, I was pretty sure he knew I was asking for Draco.“I’m actual nearsighted, I need my glasses to see things at a distance.You can buy reading glasses at muggle chemists.It helps to know the prescription, but you could pick up a few different pairs, and give them a try?”

 

“Really?Brilliant!Thanks Harry”.

 

Turned out there were a lot of different options for reading glasses.I grabbed a few of the stronger pairs, paid with the odd paper muggle money, and made my way back home.

 

My timing was perfect; Draco was sitting close to the fire, reading one of the huge tomes Hermione had lent him.He was so engrossed, he didn’t even notice my entrance into the room.

 

I was able to get right next to his chair before he jumped at my presence.“Ron!My stars, I didn’t hear you come in,” Draco gasped, clutching a hand to his heart.

 

A warm, coiling heat ignited in my belly.I wasn’t sure if it was Draco’s use of my first name, or his adorable old lady-like reaction to being startled, but the draw I felt to the blond was undeniable.I knelt down in front of the chair, by his feet, and rummaged through my carrier bag.“I got these to help you see better when reading.There’s a few different strengths, so you’ll have to test them out to see what suits best.”I held out a pair of specs to Draco.

 

My hand hovered there awkwardly while Draco sat stone still.The tension was becoming a little unbearable.“Uh, here...I’ll just...uh...put them on, shall I?”I opened the arms of the glasses, leaned forward, and laid them gently on Draco’s nose, being particularly careful when placing them behind his ears.“There, let’s see how they work,” I said jovially, trying to lighten the tense mood. 

 

I went to release the arms and lean away, but Draco brought his hands up and covered mine, so that I was now cradling his face.I tried to look at him, to gauge his mood, but our faces were too close, and everything just appeared distorted and blurry, his features swimming in front of my eyes.I could feel his faint puffs of breath, brushing my skin, and the tentative pressure of his delicate hands over mine.We were suspended in time, both too terrified to move, worried that it would shatter this precious moment.Finally Draco’s hands dropped to my wrists, and I could feel him beginning to pull away, to sit back in the chair.“Draco,” I whispered.“Draco...”

 

A sound like a whimper escaped his mouth, and he dropped my hands, wrapped his arms around my neck, and suddenly we were kissing.We were kissing and kissing and even though I was crouched uncomfortably on the floor, it was the most amazing, beautiful thing ever.I moaned around Draco’s lips, shuffling forward on my knees to slot between his legs.My arms found their way down around Draco’s waist, drawing him even closer to my body.

 

I could have kissed Draco Malfoy forever.I could have gotten lost in that moment, forgotten about Azkaban and the Dementor’s Kiss, and just stayed snogging Draco, warm and safe and happy. 

 

But when has my life ever worked that way?Charlie always used to say, “Ron, if it weren’t for bad luck, you’d have no luck at all.”

 

All I knew was one second Draco was pushing his hands into my hair, and the next he gripped my shoulders, face pulled back and staring at me with confused trepidation.“I’m....sorry?” he said, almost like a question.

 

I couldn’t find my voice, so I just shook my head.I meant, ‘no, don’t be sorry!Kiss me again!’ but that didn’t seem to come across.He dropped his eyes, and they landed on the bag of glasses by his feet on the floor.A small, crooked smile snuck over his face, and he said quietly, “this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

 

That jolted me out of my stupor.Did Draco think he needed to repay my kindness somehow?Is that why he initiated the kiss?My head was reeling as I questioned my motives, my behaviour, my expectations.Was I abusing my authority over Draco?I slid back from his chair quickly, leaving plenty of space in between us. 

 

He gathered the bag and his book, keeping his eyes downcast the entire time.“Thank you,” he said, as he stood and made his way from the room.He walked slower than usual, and my trembling heart held out hope that he was waiting for something from me.

 

“You’re welcome,” I said, trying to sound normal and professional.It didn’t work.But Draco nodded, and stepped a little more quickly towards the steps.“Draco,” I called out, and he stopped at the foot of the stairs, spine tight with tension and still facing away from me.“You are worth it.Worth the effort, I mean.”He would think I meant the glasses, but I was actually talking about so much more.

 

I saw his back rise and fall as he took in a big breath, and then continued up the stairs to his bedroom.

 

~~~***~~~

 

Hermione showed up at my desk first thing Monday morning, a piece of parchment in her hand and a strange look on her face. “What?” I asked, casting her a distracted smile as I eyed the files in front of me.Once again my inbox was overflowing after a hectic weekend on call.I had been tempted more than once to ask Harry for help, but I knew he deserved a break. 

 

Hermione unrolled the parchment and set it in front of me without saying a word.I paused, slightly fearful, before glancing down at the letter.What could have rendered verbose Hermione Granger speechless?

 

_To: Hermione Granger,_

_I am most thankful for the loan of several books and texts, delivered to me by Ronald Weasley_.

 

‘Muggle Customs for Purebred Dummies’ _has been particularly enlightening._

_Regards,_

_Draco L. Malfoy_

 

I huffed out a laugh, because of course ‘Mione would send Draco that book.“Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

 

“Only last Thursday, when I brought that curry takeout for lunch,” she said, finally smiling and looking more like herself.“But it’s still nice to hear.

 

“Ron,” she said, after a slight pause.“Did you make Malfoy write me this note?”

 

I shook my head.“No.He asked my to pass along his gratitude, and I suggested he thank you himself.I had honestly forgotten about that conversation.” Understandable, what with the surprise snogging that happened a day later.“I told him he could borrow Pig if he wanted, but he didn’t seem too fussed, at the time.”

 

Hermione’s face flushed a little, and she picked up the letter, slipping it carefully into her pocket.“It’s just...it gives me hope.”She stuttered to a stop, trying to find the correct words.“Malfoy upset me more than I let on, when we were kids, with his slurs and taunting.I didn’t like how low the word Mudblood made me feel everytime it came out of his twisted, snarling lips.But at the Manor, he didn’t turn us in, and even though it wasn’t a big show of heroism, and he let his crazy Aunt drag me off, it was still something.”Hermione chewed nervously on her lower lip in an uncharacteristic fashion.“Maybe it’s stupid, and maybe I’m naïve, but I’d like to think that Malfoy has some good, and that it’s worth fighting for.”

 

Harry and I had discussed that exact point multiple times in the past.Sometimes, being an Auror was hard.Not all criminals were inherently evil.Some just made bad choices, or had run out of options altogether.“People can change, Hermione,” I said softly, patting her hand.“He seems different since Azkaban.Quieter, and more aware of other people.I’m not saying he’s a Saint, but look at James Potter, and Sirius, and Dumbledore.”I hoped I wasn’t breaking Harry’s confidence, by bringing this up.“James and Sirius were bullies.Dumbledore believed in ‘The Greater Good’.Who you are as a teenager doesn’t define your whole life, unless you let it.”

 

“When did you become so wise?” Hermione wondered, as she reached forward to pat my cheek.

 

“Probably about the same time I was forced to pick up a pile of rag-covered bones from Azkaban,” I replied with little humour. 

 

“You are the perfect example of changing with age.You we’re always a good boy, Ronald Weasley, but you have grown into a great man.”

 

If only she knew my secret thought and fantasies.“Sometimes I’m worried I’m not doing things for the right reasons,” I admitted vaguely.“People keep saying how proud they are of me, but what if I don’t deserve it?What if...what if some of my motivations are selfish?”

 

Hermione smiled at me kindly.“Oh, Ron, you goose!Everyone has moments of selfishness.You think I don’t make rash decisions based on my own needs sometimes?”Her eyes turned searching, putting me on edge.No one knew me better than Hermione.“If you are questioning whether your feelings for Draco have influenced you actions; stop.Standing up for the people you care about isn’t selfish.In fact, it’s quite noble in my eyes.”

 

So I was that transparent, was I?“Fuuuuuucck,” I groaned, grinding my teeth.Not where I had envisioned this conversation going.“Hermione, I don’t...fuck...I just really don’t...”

 

“Want to like men in general?Or want to like Draco in particular?” she asked calmly.“You shouldn’t be ashamed of either.”

 

I dropped my head into my hands. “I’d actually like to die of embarrassment now, if that’s ok with you?”

 

That made her laugh.“You’ve done much more embarrassing things, and we’ve had much harder conversations, and I’ve always stood by you.That’s not going to change now.”

 

“I’m not sure how I feel.About any of it.”Being gay or whatever, liking Draco - now that Hermione had said it out loud, put words to my hidden thoughts, I was terrified.Facing that situation seemed more intimidating than dealing with all the Ministry and Azkaban mess.

 

“That’s fine,” she assured, coming around the desk to give me a hug.“Take your time.But this is when you need to be selfish, alright?Don’t make decisions based on your friends, or your family, or what’s easy.Do what’s in your heart, and what will make you happy, in the long run.”

 

Draco Malfoy, making someone happy?Making me happy?I snorted.“Thanks, ‘Mione.Love you.”

 

“Love you too, Ron.”

 

~~~***~~~

 

Time was slipping away from me.With less than two weeks left until Draco’s sentencing, I knew I needed to pull everything together into a coherent document, and file the request appropriately.I was mostly organized, having gathered the pensive memories I requested and writing out detailed descriptions of each.Merlin, was that a mind fuck.

 

Reliving our time at Malfoy Manor, and in the Room of Requirement, chased by Fiendfyre, was one of the worst experiences of my life.More harrowing than living through it the first time, even.It made fresh the pain of loss, of Hermione’s torture, of Fred dying with a smile on his lips.My heart felt exposed and flayed in a way I hadn’t had time to experience in the middle of fighting for our lives.

 

If there was even a sliver of doubt in my mind, as to whether Draco Malfoy was worth the trouble, it was erased by the memories McGonagall provided.Dumbledore’s description of the night on the Astronomy Tower was certainly illuminating, and I was sure it would be extremely useful.But for me, it was Snape’s testimony that resonated the most.

 

In his eyes, Draco Malfoy was just an innocent boy, led astray by the parents that raised him.Snape himself had made poor choices, and it took the loss of the woman he loved to see the error of his ways.Not so with Draco.Although Snape did admit to seeing prejudice and spite in the young Slytherin, he also noted his loyalty to his House and his family, even if it meant putting himself at personal risk.

 

Snape recognized Draco’s reluctance towards the Dark Lord’s cruelty right away.While others were staring at Voldemort with rapt fanatical attention, Snape was furtively watching his young Slytherin charge, noting Draco’s horror at the treatment of prisoners such as the Muggle Studies Professor, and his extreme hesitation in following orders to torture people himself.Only under threat of harm to his family did Draco perform such spells, and afterwards, he was left weak and trembling, although he found the strength to push Snape away, and refuse his offers of help.

 

Snape’s version of Draco, of a boy taught Pureblood bigotry from infancy, who still managed to question Voldemort when things were most dire for his family, was vastly different from the heartless, cold-blooded murderer the Ministry chose to portray.Snape’s last words, spoken to McGonagall loud and clear in his lulling drawl, caused me to question everything I thought I knew - about Draco Malfoy, and myself, and my own choices.“Would you have acted any differently, had it been your family’s safety and lives on the line?” Snape had asked, black eyes glaring.

 

I knew the question wasn’t directed at me personally, but I still couldn’t help but dig for an answer.What would I have done, on Voldemort’s request, to save my family?I was lucky; I had an army of people I relied on to help me.Like Harry and Hermione, Dumbledore and the Order, the DA, as well as my siblings, parents, and their friends.Who did Draco have?His parents, who were out of favour with their Lord.The other Death Eaters, who he reviled.A crazy Aunt.A Head of House he no longer trusted.A Headmaster, who Draco had never liked, and waited until the last possible moment to offer help.Draco Malfoy had been quite alone in the world, trying to save himself and his family.

 

People like Sirius and Harry had gone against their families, had made choices despite their upbringing, had turned out good in spite of it all.If they could do it, why couldn’t Draco?Why had he chosen to be a pretentious git, using his influence and family name to trod on others?Why hadn’t he seen the error of his ways, once away from his parents in Hogwarts?

 

I finally had an answer.Sirius and Harry had never been loved by their families.It was easy for them, to step away, make a clean break.From all accounts, Sirius’s mom was a lot like Bellatrix Lestrange; evangelical in her Pureblood bigotry, zealous to the point of madness.She cared little for her two boys, unless they portrayed equal enthusiasm for the hatred of Muggles and Mudbloods.Poor Regulus parroted her views, tried his best to win her love, only to realize in the end what a huge mistake he had made.

 

The difference with Draco was that he was loved by his parents.They adored him, and he, in turn, adored them right back.Just as I learned the way of the world from my family, so did Draco.Just as I never questioned those teachings, neither did Draco.We didn’t have any reason to, because we both loved and trusted our parents to raise us properly.

 

I had told Hermione that people could change.Did I really believe that Draco Malfoy could overcome a lifetime of Pureblood bigotry?

 

I wanted the answer to be yes, so very, very badly.And it wasn’t even the angelic blond boy I longed for anymore.No, it was just Draco, with his good looks and charm and witty snark, his sneers and smiles, his flair for getting lost in a book, his precise way of eating, his mood swings and his crooked, barely-there grins, his quiet bravery, his silver-grey eyes and his fragile wrists and his ability to make me question things I had never fully contemplated before.

 

I needed one more thing, for the formal request, before it was submitted to the Ministry.And it meant talking frankly to Draco.I wasn’t entirely ready, still feeling like one harsh word could shatter me after watching those memories in the pensive.

 

I approached him where he could usually be found in the evenings; curled up in the armchair, new specs on the tip of his nose, deeply engrossed in a book.Tonight it was the aforementioned _Muggle Customs for Purebred Dummies, by Margaret St. Mitchell_ , and my chest tightened at the sight.

 

“Hey, Draco,” I said peacefully, laying my hand lightly on his arm so as not to startle him.He looked up at me over the top of his glasses, interest sparking in his eyes.“Can I ask you a question?”

 

He gave one of those half-grins, where the corner of his mouth tipped up at one side.I let go of his arm and flopped down on the couch, feeling my head swim, all at the sight of that grin.“Go for it,” he replied, as he marked his place in the book and laid it on the side table. 

 

Even Pig seemed to pick up on the emotion in the room, and he quit his incessant chattering, fixing his big brown eyes on me in silence.“What did you want to be when you grew up?”Oh, fucking Merlin, I sounded a right wanker.That was something a kid would ask. 

 

The smirk slid off Draco’s face, and he looked lost and hunted.“I don’t think that really matters now, do you, Weasley?Seeing as I won’t be growing any older.”Draco’s tone was bitter and cutting, and if it wasn’t for the terror in his eyes, I might not have found the courage to go on.

 

“That’s not a forgone conclusion,” I muttered.Draco raised one eyebrow at me.I wondered if he used to practise that move in the mirror when he was younger.“Your sentencing is being protested, remember.Who knows what will happen?”I didn’t want to say anything else, in case it all came to shit.

 

“Fine, I’ll pay your little game.But you go first.”

 

“I...uh...ok.Well, I wanted to be an Auror, so I...did,” I stuttered, feeling rather exposed. 

 

Draco rolled his eyes.“That was lame,” he said mockingly, but with an undercurrent of laughter, so I didn’t feel attacked.“Well, when I was a child, I wanted to be a Quidditch star.Obviously.”

 

“Yeah, me too!” I cut in with enthusiasm. 

 

“Then it was a famous singer,” Draco continued after shooting me a smile.“Except, I can’t sing to save my life, but I am rather good at the piano, so I decided I would play keyboard in a Wizarding band.We’d tour the world, selling out venues in every country.”

 

I was swept up in Draco’s narrative, picturing him dressed in designer garb, rocking out on the stage in front of thousands of screaming fans.Oh, the innocence of youth.

 

Draco’s voice turned melancholy as he said, “of course, I never really had a choice in the matter.By the time I went to Hogwarts, I knew I would be following in my Father’s footsteps as an influential politician in the Ministry.”

 

Gross.That sounded awful.“Was that something you wanted to do?”

 

“I wanted to make my Father proud,” was his answer. 

 

I took that as a no.“Ok,” I said slowly, thinking fast.“If you could do anything, what would you like to do now?”

 

Draco shook his head, looking totally overwhelmed.“My future has been mapped out for me for so long, I don’t really know.I don’t even know what my options are.”

 

How sad.My parents might have been poor, but they had always been supportive.Mum gave Charlie a hard time about the dragons, and despaired at the more inflammatory jokes in WWW, but when push comes to shove, they were proud of their kids.“Let’s start with stuff you are good at, or enjoy.You were always wicked at potions.”

 

“No, I don’t fancy being a potions maker,” Draco said, wrinkling his nose.“It’s so solitary.Unless you become a professor, which I would be pants at.”

 

Draco Malfoy admitting he wasn’t good at something?What was the world coming to?“Give it some thought, ok?And let me know.Quickly.It’s kind of important.”

 

“So this wasn’t just a nice, friendly chat,” Draco stated, tilting his head at me.

 

“No,” I admitted.“But I did enjoy it!”Very much.Especially the fluttery feeling that blossomed in the pit of my belly at the sight of Draco’s scrunched up nose.

 

“Yeah,” Draco said, head still tilted, regarding me with a searching look, small smile playing on his lips.“Me too.”

 

My first wand had been a hand-me-down, as most of my belongings were. When I finally got my own wand, back before third year, I was over the moon with giddiness.The feeling you get, when your wand chooses you, is indescribable.A perfusion of warmth and happiness and...rightness?Like everything is right in the world, and you could do anything, accomplish anything, be anything.That’s how I felt, now, looking into Draco’s pretty grey eyes.Smiling back at him.

 

I became a little panicky, suddenly, worrying about the outcome of my endeavours.What would happen if Draco’s sentencing didn’t get overturned?Would I be able to go on?Would I want to?

 

This couldn’t fail. I couldn’t fail.

 

~~~***~~~

 

I was awake early the next morning, putting the finishing touches on the paperwork to file at the Ministry later that day.There were three copies; one for the Wizengamot, one for the Auror’s office, and one for the Minister.The pensive memories would go directly to Kingsley.It was the only way to guarantee they wouldn’t get ‘lost’, in light of the corruption at the DMLE.

 

The investigation Kingsley had opened was still ongoing, in secret, and taking more time than he had planned.Shacklebolt encouraged me to submit my document sooner rather than later, as the time left on Malfoy’s appeal was getting short.He would ensure that the appropriate people saw it, and that it wasn’t swept under the rug by some shady hack looking to pin all the Wizarding world’s troubles on Draco Malfoy.

 

I wasn’t expecting Draco’s presence so early, so when I heard his light footsteps on the stairs, I hastened to organize my paperwork and store it away.He came into the kitchen just as I was shoving it guiltily into my work briefcase, and he gave me a speculative look, but didn’t say anything.

 

“Good morning,” I trilled in an over-jolly tone.I cringed inwardly at how fake I sounded.“You’re up early.”

 

Draco shrugged one shoulder.He looked nervous, but like he was trying to hide that behind a facade of indifference.“I like animals,” he said, staring at the floor.

 

“Huh?”I replied, before cottoning on.Oh, this was in reply to our conversation last night.“Wait, really?”I asked, incredulous.I remembered Draco’s piss poor attitude at Hogwarts, belittling Hagrid and acting a total prat in Care of Magical Creatures.“Could have fooled me, they way you insulted Buckbeak the Hippogriff.”

 

“Why do you think I signed up for that class in the first place?” he asked with a bite in his tone.

 

It was my turn to shrug.“I dunno.Maybe for an easy grade?”

 

The blond snorted and shook his head.“No, that was you and Potter,” he teased, meeting my eyes finally.“I was genuinely interested in learning more about magical creatures.Sadly, the newly appointed professor left much to be desired.”

 

I opened my mouth to defend Hagrid, then shut it with a snap as I recalled the monstrous Skrewts.Another memory surfaced, of a young blond boy in tailored black robes and a green Slytherin tie, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on illustrating the perfect Bowtruckle drawing.His face had been open and interested when Professor Grubbly-Plank taught the class.

 

“We had all manner of animals at the Manor,” Draco said, excitement evident in his voice.“Peacocks and horses and cats.Loads of other birds, like turkeys and Cornish hens.And magical creatures, like kneazles and owls and even a Pegasus!”Draco’s face was flushed with enthusiasm. I’d never seen him so animated. “I had a pet tortoise, named Terrence, who lived in Mother’s greenhouse.”Draco’s voice turned wistful, and laced with sorrow.“He was missing, the last time I was permitted home, at Easter hols.That was almost three years ago.I wonder what happened to him?”

 

I couldn’t help but smile as Ipictured a fastidious, blond little boy chatting with a tortoise, deciding Terrence would be a clever name.“He’s probably fine.Tortoises are notoriously resilient.”

 

“But what if the Dark Lord found him?What if he killed him, or worse, tortured him?”

 

“I think that’s highly unlikely,” I said gently.“If Voldemort had found him, and known he was precious to you, he would have hung it over your head.”

 

“Like my parents,” Draco sighed.It was the first time we had ever really touched on that horrible, dark era of our history.

 

“Right,” I replied awkwardly, shifting my eyes around.My gaze landed on the Muggle coffee pot, where the current time was displayed in bright red numbers.It had gotten late.“Shit, is that the time?I have to go.”I jumped from my chair, nearly spilling the remains of my cold coffee in the process.I hastily grabbed my briefcase, and turned towards the floo.

 

Something made me glance back, and what I saw left a lump in my throat.Draco was still standing by the table, looking unsure and lost.In two strides, I was in front of him, and I gathered his delicate frame into my arms, engulfing him in a warm Weasley hug.“It’s going to be alright,” I soothed, and although the words were meaningless, I felt him relax in my arms a fraction.I stepped back and gave him a bracing smile, rubbing my hands up and down on his upper arms.“Trust me.”

 

“I do,” he whispered, as I found the strength to break away.To charge into the Ministry, with one goal on my mind.

 

Fucking Godric and all the Founders, I hoped his trust in me wasn’t misguided.

 

~~~***~~~

 

“Uuuurrgh,” I groaned.Circe’s tits, I felt vile.Like I had been run down by a hoard of stampeding, insulted hippogriffs.My head was pounding, my eyes were glued shut, and my mouth was dry and manky. 

 

So just your average hangover, really.

 

Sitting up brought on a whole new set of problems, as the world around me started to spin, even with my eyes scrunched tightly shut.It took three “Accio Hangover Potion” spells squeezed croakily from my sore throat before I heard a bottle rattle it’s way into my hand.As the blessed Potion took affect, I was able to pry an eye open and survey my surroundings. 

 

I was in the Ministry, that was obvious.I vaguely recalled forcefully telling Harry and Hermione that I would be sleeping in the office, as I wished to receive news on Draco’s case as soon as possible.However, I was not in my own cubicle.Further investigation revealed that I had slept curled under the desk in Dad’s Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, using my cloak as a blanket and a poorly transfigured houseplant as a pillow.

 

Ah, good ole Harry and Hermione, my best mates.I had completed my paperwork requesting a review of Draco’s sentencing late Tuesday afternoon.After submitting the documents to the proper departments, and logging the memory vials with Shacklebolt and his Administrator, my two best friends had taken me out for a celebratory drink.Which turned into celebratory drinks.Which led to straight-laced Hermione dancing drunkenly on the table, while I waxed poetic about Draco Malfoy to Harry Potter, of all people.Godric’s saggy sac, what a night. 

 

It was still unreasonably early, leaving the halls of the Ministry mostly empty, much to my good fortune.I was able to slip into my workspace unnoticed. Imagine my surprise when my chair twirled around and spoke to me.“Good morning, Ronald.”

 

“Jesus bloody buggering fuck on a flaming broomstick,” I swore, while jumping a good foot in the air.My heart sped ahead so fast, I thought it would propel itself from my body.

 

“Lumos,” said the chair in a melodic, deep voice, revealing the Minister for Magic himself, bedecked in plush chocolate robes and a bemused look on his face.“What an interesting mix of Muggle and Wizarding cuss words.I didn’t know your vocabulary was so diverse.”

 

I answered with a two fingered salute, as I was busy catching my breath.Probably not the most professional behaviour, but as Kingsley smiled back widely, I didn’t think there was any harm done.

 

“I know your work day hasn’t technically started, but Harry told me I could find you here.”Kingsley paused, and adopted an authoritative tone.“We arrested Finnigan O’Stewart last night.He was an employee-“

 

“In the DMLE,” I finished, my mind racing.“Yeah, I’ve heard that name from Hermione.She didn’t-“

 

“Like him?” Shaklebolt asked, cutting me off this time with a smirk.“She’d suspected him of being crooked for a long time.We have Hermione to thank for his arrest.That woman keeps meticulous records.”

 

“I’ll bet.”Hermione’s motto at Hogwarts had been, ‘why write the assigned one foot essay length when there was enough information to fill two or three rolls of parchment?’Always the over-achiever.

 

“He’s our guy, Ron.O’Stewart was the mastermind behind the improper prisoner placements.”

 

Now we were making progress.“What was in it for him?”

 

Kingsley’s mouth curled down.“Bribes,” he said with disgust.“Certain... dishonourable Aurors were paying for the chance to host death row prisoners.O’Stewart in turn trickled money down to old Roddick in Azkaban.”

 

“Bloody hell,” I whispered.These were people I worked with, chatted with, shared tea and snacks with.People I trusted to have my back in the line of duty.And, in general as Aurors, to believe and work towards making the word a better place.

 

“O’Stewart is not the self-sacrificing type.We’ll have names of the culpable Aurors and Wizengamot members in no time.”Kingsley clapped me on the back bracingly.“This can only help Malfoy’s case.”

 

Speaking of which... “have you heard anything, since I filed the paperwork?”My mouth was dry again, and my hands started to shake, although my hangover was gone.I was just that nervous.

 

“The Wizengamot has set Draco Malfoy’s sentencing for Monday at ten o’clock.”I could only imagine what my face must have looked like as I dropped into the spare chair at Shacklebolt’s news.“No, just wait, Ron.Don’t jump to conclusions.I spoke to someone I trust on the Wizengamot, and she assured me that they are handling Draco’s appeal with the utmost attention.It is their top priority.Monday is just a deadline, for making a decision.”

 

Making a decision.Yeah, right.Picking between a Firebolt and a Cleansweep, that was a decision.Choosing to have an appetizer and skip dessert, that was a decision.But sentencing a young adult to a fate worse than death, to live soulless, a shell of his former self, how was that just ‘making a decision’?“What are the chances that the appeal will work?” I asked, trying to keep the despair out of my voice.

 

“Honestly, Ron, I believe the odds of Draco receiving The Kiss are slim to nil.The Wizengamot will convene today, with the sole purpose of reading each and every word you submitted.They have requested access to the memory vials on Friday.All in all, it’s looking very positive, especially if the tainted members can be removed promptly.”

 

I nodded, unable to trust myself to speak.“I’ll leave you to it,” Kingsley said gently, rising from my chair.

 

He had almost reached the entrance when I called out, “Wait!”There was one little detail that niggled at my mind.“O’Stewart didn’t get a bribe from me.Why did he place Malfoy in my care?”

 

Kingsley smiled sadly.“You have Hermione to thank for that, as well.She suggested you.And, between you, me, and the cloak stand, she slipped him a little something to ensure it would happen.”

 

Law-abiding Hermione Granger bribed her boss?And kept this whole thing quiet from me?I was shocked for a moment, until I remembered how long she had Rita Skeeter locked up in a jar.“She won’t get in trouble, will she?”

 

Kingsley scoffed.“That’s doubtful.And if she does, it will be a slap on the wrist.It’s more likely that she will be promoted to fill Finnigan O’Stewart’s position within the DMLE.”

 

As Kingsley took his leave, I felt a rush of magic skim lightly over me. My wrinkled, slept in robes had straightened and become decidedly fresher.“Ta, Minister.”The man winked, billowing out into the hallway in a Snape-like fashion, his own robes flaring dramatically around him despite the early hour. 

 

Some people just had style.

 

~~~***~~~

 

I was a useless tit for the rest of the work day, and I knew it wouldn’t get any better.Luckily, I had Friday off, in lieu of working all last weekend.I put in a vacation request for Thursday, and my official boss, Head Auror Robards, approved the time off within ten minutes.

 

It was the first time in my tenor at the DMLE that he saw fit to visit my lowly Junior Auror self in my cubicle.Usually I got hauled into his office for a telling off.“Look, Weasley, everyone can see you are running yourself ragged.Take a few days.Do you need Monday off, too?”

 

Monday.Merlin, was I dreading Monday.“I’ll be escorting Draco Malfoy to his sentencing hearing on Monday,” I reminded him tightly.

 

“Right,” Robards said slowly.“I know he was a classmate of yours.You weren’t close, were you?What with him being on the wrong side of the war and all.”He looked at me expectantly.

 

“It’s complicated,” I replied, after a pause.

 

“It always is.”The older man offered me a rare smile.“It’s almost five.Go home, Weasley.Enjoy your weekend. I’ll see you on Monday.”

 

“Yeah, sure, see you Monday,” I said vaguely, waving a hand in his general direction as he left.Would I see him Monday?Robards wasn’t one of the crooked Aurors, was he?He was a bit of a cranky old fuss-pot, but I liked him, really.He was tough but fair, kind of like Professor McGonagall.Please, please let this man I looked up to not turn out to be a corrupt nutter.

 

After one quick stop at the Thai West Cafe for our evening meal, I headed straight home.Watching Draco try new foods and flavours was one of my favourite things.There was a great deal of contemplating and sniffing involved before the food even hit his mouth.He took small bites, chewing intently, a look of concentration wrinkling his brow. 

 

Tonight was no different, as he pondered the plate of food in front of him.“Not bad, Weasley,” was the final verdict, and I felt a smile creep over my face.I pushed off the counter where I had been leaning, and dished up my own plate.

 

“You have a little something, just there,” Draco said, reaching across our food.I was unprepared for the touch; a thumb grazed lightly over my cheek bone.Rolling warmth flooded my belly.I wanted to grab his hand, kiss his thumb, his palm, his wrist.His touch had been so soft, like I was a precious thing worthy of delicacy.I couldn’t take my eyes off of his.“Is it...I think it’s dirt,” he whispered, dropping his hand but not his gaze.

 

I flushed with embarrassment, breaking eye contact.“Oh, yeah.I kinda slept on a spider plant last night,” I said, scrubbing at my cheek.Had I really been walking around all day with soil on my face?

 

Draco looked horrified.“You slept on a spider...plant?What does that mean, does it grow spiders?”He shuddered.

 

Well that was just my worst nightmare come to life!“No,” I said with a snicker.“It’s just a common Muggle houseplant. Dad keeps one in his office.I had a minor transfiguration catastrophe.”

 

The remainder of our meal was filled with laughter and pleasant chatter.It felt like any other evening with a friend.I wished I could lie to myself.Close my eyes and forget the collar around Draco’s slender neck, and just enjoy the moment.As fate would have it, I didn’t even get the chance.

 

A large, sturdy brown owl tapped at the kitchen window, demanding entrance.I recognized it as an eagle owl, the type the Ministry kept and used to deliver correspondence. 

 

“Have you got something for me?” I crooned as I opened the window.But the owl just flew over my head and landed on Draco’s shoulder, thrusting a leg forward.Draco gently untied the letter, and gave the owl an ear rub and a noodle as a reward.

 

Draco unrolled the parchment carefully.“What could this be?” he wondered.I was sure I could hear a little hope in his voice.

 

I watched that hope fade and die in front of me as Draco read the letter, his face going from a flushed pink to blanched and ashen in a matter of moments.He pushed back from the table, sending a little half bow my way, as he said, “I’m feeling a little under the weather.Please excuse me.”I nodded dumbly.

 

Was it an invasion of privacy, to read the letter myself?I mean, Draco’d left it there on the table.It’s like he wanted me to see it.Right?

 

 

_To the attention of:_

_Draco L. Malfoy_

_§¥741_

_The Wizengamot wishes to inform you that your sentencing will take place on Monday, September 18, 2000, at ten o’clock in the morning.Please report promptly with your Auror escort to courtroom four, on the tenth floor of the Ministry of Magic.You may have your lawyer present, if you so desire._

_Sincerely,_

_Madam Isabella Butterfree_

_Chief Witch of the Wizengamot_

 

 

There was no mention made of the appeal.No wonder Draco was shitting it.But, on the bright side, there was also no mention of Dementors or Kisses or soul-sucking either. So, not so bad. 

 

What would I want, in such a situation?Comfort, from a loved one.Distraction.Maybe a nice little snack.

 

I pulled one of Mum’s cinnamon rolls out of the freezer and heated it up, along with a sugary cup of tea.Then I took a deep breath, and went upstairs to knock on Draco’s door.

 

Truthfully, I had always been pants at comforting people.Like a Niffler in a jewelry store, I ran amuck, running roughshod over people’s feelings.Auror training had taught me a little about relating to others, and how to properly convey compassion and empathy, but I was still stilted and awkward.Emotionally relating to people was not one of my inborn talents.

 

I needn’t have worried, as Draco didn’t answer my knocking on his door.There was no relief in that at all.I found myself wishing for a caustic ‘go away Weasley’, or a screamed ‘leave me alone Weasel’.Anything would have been better than stifling silence.

 

I could have just opened the door.It was my house, my guest bedroom, and Draco was a prisoner under my care.He couldn’t have protested.

 

But here was the problem; I didn’t view Draco Malfoy as just a prisoner.Not anymore.Not for a while.I wouldn’t invade his space without an invitation.“I’m going to leave some tea and a snack outside your door.Just in case you feel like it.”

 

“Thanks Ron,” came the quick reply.It was faint but audible, and sounded like it had come from just the other side of the door.I pictured Draco in a pose similar to my own, leaning on the door, forehead pressed to the wood, wanting something he knew he couldn’t have, and my heart ached for us both.

 

~~~***~~~

 

That night I thought a lot about my last conversation with Hermione.About liking blokes, and liking Draco.I’d’ve liked to say it was just Draco.That when I was young,I chose the least attainable person, and decided to torture myself with his unavailability. Maybe it was just another circumstance of my upbringing; thinking I was unworthy, or undeserving of love.Choosing someone who was never a viable option.

 

That was the coward’s way out.I was still working to overcome my tendency to blame other people for my problems and misfortunes.I couldn’t pin my pining after Draco Malfoy for seven years on my parents, though, could I?

 

Maybe the impossibility of Draco reciprocating was an excuse, at first.But I was quickly drawn in by his highborn good looks, his evident self confidence. He was my opposite, and I yearned to be like him.Or maybe just to have him, for myself.

 

And, to be truthful, I hadn’t been immune to the attractiveness of blokes like Oliver Wood and Cedric Diggory.They just never held my interest like Draco, never ignited that spark in my belly that threatened to consume my soul.Draco’s smug face left me questioning if I should punch him or kiss him.Only the threat of utter humiliation held me back from the latter, at times.

 

There was nothing wrong with girls, either.Much to the chagrin of everyone in the Gryffindor common room, I found I greatly enjoying fondling Lavender Brown’s bits.And of course there was Hermione, who I loved with my whole heart.Being intimate with her had been amazing.It was the only time we truly connected in a proper boyfriend-girlfriend way.

 

So I guess I liked both?Was that even a thing?Hermione would obviously know, but I decided I didn’t really care.What felt wrong and embarrassing as a child had shifted from a well guarded secret into a mature feeling I was proud of.My obsession with a pretty blond boy had grown; morphed and changed until it made sense to like the man he had become.

 

~~~***~~~

 

It was weird, spending the day with Draco.I was used to working all manner of odd and unusual hours.And of course on my days off, there was brunch at the Burrow, time spent catching up with Harry and Hermione, and the usual household tasks like grocery shopping.I’d never really just...hung around the house for hours at a time, watching the man staying with me.

 

He seemed a little out of sorts at first.Like he should be doing something different, because I was there.I did my best to stay unobtrusive. 

 

After a long shower, I killed some time tidying the bathroom and my bedroom.When I had run out of towels to fold upstairs, I ventured down to the living room, hoping Draco had settled into my presence.I paused at the doorway, captivated by the enchanting sight before me.

 

Pig was sitting on the arm of Draco’s chair, staring at the blond with his big yellow eyes.I’d never seen the owl so focused.He let out a soft hoot, and Draco answered with a smile.“Good morning, noble little bird.How do you do?”

 

Another hoot from Pig, this time much more excited and squeaky, and the tiny owl bobbed up and down a couple of times.“I agree, it is a lovely morning.What should we do today?” 

 

I was charmed, watching Draco Malfoy chat formally with Pig.Too often I got annoyed by the little fluff ball, which was awful, considering how hard he tried.When was the last time I gave the owl more than a moment of my attention?

 

Pig squawked, and jumped onto Draco’s shoulder, nibbling gently on his ear.And then I heard the loveliest sound.A light, lilting laugh, so uncharacteristic of the cunning boy I knew at school.He looked marvellous that way, his smile stretched wide in laughter, neck crooked down to snuggle with the little bird jockeying for his attention.Then Draco made a new noise, and his early laughter became the second most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.Because when he cooed to my owl, I lost my breath. 

 

“Stop, you naughty bird.That tickles,” Draco giggled.Dear Merlin, Draco Malfoy giggled.With my owl.Was this a prank?Was George going to jump out from the floo, screaming ‘gotcha!’ while laughing his fool head off?

 

After I regained control of myself, we had a lot of fun. I challenged Draco to Wizarding chess, and was blown away by his strategy and cunning.Draco introduced me to crossword puzzles, which were not my strong suit, but enjoyable all the same.Later, I ordered in pizza, and set up a Muggle movie.Draco picked apart the first piece, trying every topping separately, before munching his way through three more slices.I loved watching him eat, especially now that his appetite was more in-tuned with a normal man in their twenties.

 

The movie ended, and neither of us made a move to get ready for bed, although the hour had grown late.As the minutes ticked by, I could sense Draco getting tense, as if working up to something.

 

Still, when he did speak, it took me by surprise.“I wanted to thank you, Weasley.For treating me like a human being these last few weeks.I know having me here couldn’t have been easy.”

 

“Well, you...er...are a human being?”Fuck, why did that come out as a question? 

 

Draco just grinned sardonically.“Not in the eyes of anyone at Azkaban,” he replied, and I shivered, remembering the horrid condition he came to me in.“The Aurors, the Wizengamot; they all viewed me as scum, not worthy of the space and oxygen I was consuming.”The words were bitter, but his tone was matter-of-fact.“Even my own Father stopped seeing me as his son.I became a means to an end.A way to get back into the Dark Lord’s good graces, and save the Malfoy name.”

 

Wow.I could totally relate to Draco Malfoy, and wasn’t that terrifying?Probably my biggest fear in Hogwarts had been being overlooked.Being the written-off Weasley, with no real talent or ability.

 

I was so lost in my train of thought, I nearly missed Draco’s hushed confession.“That’s why I kissed you.”My head snapped up in shock.I tried to meet his eyes, but he was steadfastly avoiding my gaze.“I kept expecting you to be cruel, or mocking, but you just...you just kept doing nice things for me.Fixing my hair, getting me books, bringing home all those Muggle glasses.Salazar, Weasley, no one’s ever looked after me like that before.”

 

“But...but you were so spoiled,” I sputtered.

 

“I guess,” he shrugged nonchalantly.Even Draco’s casual mannerisms were effortlessly elegant.

 

“You had everything, and it was all perfect and brand new!”Sourness filled my insides as I remembered a hand-me-down wand, patched haphazardly with cello tape.Slugs pouring out of my mouth, as the boy in front of me laughed and laughed, twirling his shiny wand between his fingers.“Robes, brooms, boxes of sweets. I would have done unscrupulous things for that stuff, and you had it all just handed to you.And you’re saying...what?”

 

Draco finally met my eyes, and his tone was earnest.“I’ve had possessions thrown at me by my parents since I can remember.Before I could talk or walk.And then, once I could, my every demand for material goods was met.But I’ve realized that they never really cared to know me, the real me.To be privy to my thoughts and fears, my longings and desires, my secrets and weaknesses.It was a superficial relationship; with my Father especially.While I don’t doubt in my parent’s love for me, I do question their perception of who I am, or who I was.No doubt I’m partially to blame.I played the role of obedient son well.Mostly because that was what I had been taught, from birth.But deep down, there was a little boy who just wanted to be understood by the people closest to him.

“So, what I’m saying,” Draco continued, after a loaded pause, “is that being spoiled doesn’t compare to you just...caring for me.Figuring out what I needed, or what would make me happy, and doing it, just because.”

 

And just like that, the sourness left my stomach, replaced by a burning sensation in my chest.One that made it hard to draw air into my lungs.Now I was the one actively avoiding eye contact.

 

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable,” Draco said quietly.“That wasn’t my intention.For the record, heartfelt confessions are not typical conversation for me.”

 

I could feel his eyes on me, sizing me up, waiting for me to react.Here was my chance, if I could just grab it.But I was suddenly terrified.All those times I’d called Malfoy a coward, and in the end, I was the one running away when things got heavy.

 

From the corner of my eye I saw him squeeze his eyes shut tight and grimace.And I still couldn’t reach out and respond.Instead, I mumbled the weakest, “you’re welcome,” in answer to his earlier thanks, and sat stiff and unmoving until he gathered himself up and moved away with a whispered goodnight.

 

An immeasurable amount of time passed as I sat on the sofa and despaired my life.I couldn’t stop thinking about Draco, and the more I thought, the more my chest burned. 

 

Finally I mounted the stairs the to bed, encased in total darkness.It matched my mood perfectly.

 

As I reached the top step, a sliver of light appeared, growing progressively wider as the door to Draco’s room opened, and the lone occupant slipped out into the hallway.He startledslightly when he noticed me at the end of the hall, standing motionless watching him.

 

Merlin, he was lovely: long white blond hair in a messy top knot, too big pajama bottoms hanging off his bony hips, baggy t-shirt engulfing his slight frame.He was rumpled and slightly messy and still underweight, but in my eyes, he was the most beautiful creature in existence.

 

“I was just...” Malfoy said hesitantly, motioning absently with his hand.What he was on his way to do, I never found out, as I rushed down the hall in three quick steps.Everything seemed to happen at once: I grabbed his wrist, circling my fingers around it, and pulled him forward a step.His body crashed into mine as I brought my other hand up to his face, curving my palm around his cheek and jaw.

 

“I like caring for you,” I said, as I tucked a stray lock of silvery hair behind his ear.“I like having you here.”

 

His eyes were wide, pupils blown out, as he looked at me, wanting it all to be true.He licked his lips nervously, and my gaze fell to his mouth, watching his plump, pink tongue smooth over his skin.I felt hot and hungry, and somewhat feral, and that all must have shown in my expression, because Draco let out a small whimper, and I lost all control, grabbing both wrists and backing him firmly into my bedroom, where we landed on the bed in a heap of tangled limbs.

 

I wanted to take my time, to savour the moment, worship every inch of his milky skin, now healed from the abuse of Azkaban.But I didn’t. I couldn’t.I was frantic, and Draco was worked up right along with me.“Can I?” I gasped out, not knowing what I was even asking for.

 

“Yes,” he panted.“Yes to everything.”I crushed his mouth with a bruising kiss, relishing the fight I felt in his lips, battling mine for control. He wrenched away, grey eyes gleaming silver in the moonlight, and asked, “do you want to-“

 

“Yes,” I cut him off, echoing his early response.“Yes to everything.”

 

It wasn’t slow.It wasn’t pretty.It was two bodies, in a frenzy of need, thrusting and panting and clutching, never really finding a rhythm but delighting in the messiness and chaos.It was shirts ripped off, warm skin on skin contact, rolling hips and harsh biting kisses and rushed ecstasy.

 

He looked up at me with longing and satisfaction, his eyes rolling back in his head, and then he smiled at me, that true smile I’d only seen on the Quidditch pitch, the one of utter happiness, and I knew that I could fall for this man, this broken, wrecked man underneath me who was my boyhood crush, in all his snarky Slytherin beauty.The man who couldn’t make toast and cooed to my owl and wormed his way into my every waking thought.

 

I leaned over a sucked a particularly aggressive love bite onto his slender neck. I was depraved, like an animal, wanting to own every inch of Draco Malfoy.He arched up against me, back bowed off the bed, mouth open and eyes slammed shut.A perfect little “oh” escaped his lips as he climaxed, and I could feel the warm wetness through the multiple layers of clothing still covering our cocks.I gripped his wrists and pushed them over his head on the bed, feeling his thready pulse trill along like a hummingbird.I hadn’t come in my trousers since fourth year, when Fleur and Krum joined my nighttime dreams of Draco, and I’d wake up in a patch of drying stickiness.But when Draco opened his eyes, gave me a languid smile, and said “Ron” like a caress, I felt my balls draw up and my own orgasm overtook me, as I thrust against Draco’s wet crotch like a man possessed.

 

That fevered coupling was not at all how I had imagined having sex with Draco Malfoy.Usually in my schoolboy dreams Malfoy worked my cock slowly, almost sadistically, gripping so hard the line between pain and pleasure blurred.Donning Slytherin robes, hair slicked back and gleaming, he’d gaze down at me apathetically, dragging my foreskin over the swollen head of my prick, an aggressive twist to his wrist.“Not yet, Weasel.”He’d push me to the edge of release, only to slow down even further, using the lightest pressure, until my impending orgasm receded, and he’d start the whole thing over, a snarky look on his face. 

 

Thank Godric reality far outstripped my sadistic adolescent fantasies.

 

Finally I caught my breath, and shifted so as not to crush the man under me.I dropped a hand onto his stomach.“That was...” words failed me.Mind-blowing?Earth-shattering?Embarrassingly fast? 

 

Fingers threaded through mine on Draco’s abdomen, creating a giddy fluttering in my stomach.“A long time coming,” he finished, giving my hand a squeeze.

 

“Yeah, like half a lifetime.”

 

Draco went still as he held his breath.“What?”

 

Blood flushed my cheeks.Godric fuck, why could I never keep my big mouth shut?“Yeah.Well, it turns out, I’ve l..l..liked you since first year.”My mouth stuttered over the ‘L’ word.Liked didn’t seem right.I liked my friends, Neville and Luna and the rest. Draco was different, always had been.Love wasn’t right either.I didn’t love the git, back in Hogwarts, when he made me miserable with his cutting taunts.But now?Could I love Draco Malfoy now?

 

Draco turned on his side and looked at me.“Really?” he asked with a smile, and there was no trace of mocking.“But I was such a dick.”

 

“Still are,” I quipped, earning an eye roll from the blond.“It was a fantasy.I knew it wasn’t real.”

 

Long fingers swept the sweaty fringe off of my forehead.“It is now,” he said simply.“What took you so long?I’ve been wanting you since the evening you fixed my hair.Two hours of your fingers on my scalp!I nearly melted into a puddle at you feet.”

 

I filed that information away for later; Draco enjoyed having his hair played with.Then a crushing realization hit me.There was no ‘later’ for me and Draco.All we had left was the weekend.

 

Fuck it.I wasn’t going to let anything ruin the precious little time we had together, my own moroseness included.

 

“It’s real now, isn’t it?Us?”I couldn’t keep the wonder out of my voice.Draco didn’t answer, just snuggled deeper into my side with his pointy little chin resting on my chest where my arm met my body.It should have been uncomfortable, but it was surprisingly cozy, with our legs tangled together and our hands still clasped tight.

 

I pressed a small kiss to the top of his head, right where the topknot had been before it came loose.After everything that had happened, all the confessions made and kisses shared and bare skin touched, the simple brush of my lips to his hair still felt achingly intimate.Like I was sharing a private little piece of myself with Draco.One I could never get back, if it was rejected.His answering huff of contentment, blown in a puff of breath on my bare chest, and the smile I felt curl on his lips, made the gesture more than worthwhile.

 

~~~***~~~

 

Being woken by a Ministry owl was not an unusual experience, but this time, my nerves were singing an anxious tune before I was even fully awake. 

 

I ripped open the parchment before I had time to second guess my actions.

 

_Dear Junior Auror Weasley,_

_Your request for outdoor access for Draco Malfoy, prisoner number §¥741, has been approved for the duration of his time in your care._

_Please see the enclosed document detailing the rules and conditions determined by the Auror office and approved by the Minister of Magic._

_Sincerely,_

_Madam Isabella Butterfree_

_Chief Witch of the Wizengamot_

 

The second envelope, much smaller than the first and a little wrinkled to boot, I opened with more care.

 

_Ron,_

_Kingsley and I stayed up all night, reconfiguring the wards around your place.Malfoy is now able to go outside into your garden.There is no time restraints or conditions on this, however, should he try to leave the confines of the wards, ie. the garden boundaries, he will be instantaneously immobilized by his collar._

_The entire Wizengamot is watching me write this note.I hope I’ve made it appear suitably proper.Bunch of uptight wankers._

_I love you, mate,_

_Harry_

 

I turned to Draco, who sat tucked up by the headboard of my bed, knees drawn up under his chin.“Anything important?” he asked, feigning indifference.I could see right though the charade.

 

“See for yourself,” I grinned, as I plopped the letter onto his knees. 

 

A squeak broke from his lips as he launched himself out of the bed without warning.“Weasley, I don’t care if your garden is an overgrown mess filled with Devil’s Snare and Carnivorous Lilies, I will be spending the day there.Outside.”He said the last word reverently. 

 

“Lucky for you, I have a hired gardener who keeps everything in top shape.”No need to mention the gardener was Neville Longbottom, and that I hired him as a favour, to help his fledgling business grow.The result was a beautiful space, filled with magic and muggle plants.Draco would love it. 

 

Draco bounced on his tip-toes, practically vibrating with eager energy.He really was quite like his younger cousin Teddy.“Have a shower,” I said with a smile as I watched him from the bed.“I’ll meet you outside with breakfast.”

 

“Yes.Outside. Ok, yes,” he muttered as he walked to the hallway. 

 

I kept breakfast simple.Just toast and jam and sliced tomatoes, with pots of tea and coffee suspended in warmth under stasis charms.I loved tea, but I was used to the strong brewed coffee of the Auror office in the morning, it’s bitterness cut slightly by a splash of flavoured creamer.

 

Draco hesitated at the garden door, perhaps suspicious that this was all an elaborate prank set up by Harry Potter to see him knocked on his ass.He visibly steeled himself with a large intake of air, and stepped outside for the first time in years.He closed his eyes, and took another deep breath, his body shuddering slightly.“That smell...the flowers...the grass...the fragrance,” he said, totally overwhelmed.“I forgot.”His eyes popped back open and he looked at me.“I forgot that air could smell so sweet.”A tear tracked down his cheek, getting lost in the corner of his mouth where his lips had started to turn up in a tentative smile.

 

I jumped from my seat and bustled him over to the patio, where breakfast was waiting.“Sit.Enjoy.You have all day.All night too, if you want.And the next day, and the next.”I didn’t want to think any further than that.

 

“Thanks,” he replied with a smile.I willed myself to silence.I wanted Draco to do what he wanted today.

 

Mostly that entailed strolling around, sticking his face into bushes and flowers, lightly trailing his fingers over various plants.Eventually Draco lay down in the middle of the garden on the sun-warmed grass, flat on his back and spread out like a starfish.After long moments of watching him, I found myself getting sleepy in the summer heat, and dozed off.

 

When I awoke from my nap, Pig had joined us in the garden.Draco still lay on the ground, but had pulled his legs in, and the little owl sat perched on his knees.It was ridiculous, how much I enjoyed seeing Draco interact with my owl.

 

“Hey,” I exclaimed, as an idea popped into my head.“I should go to the Manor, see if I can find Terrence.He could live here, in the garden.Hermione could help me set up some sort of environmental charm, to regulate the temperature and humidity.Or, I could build a small greenhouse,” I said, deep in thought. Neville would know what I needed.“Nothing fancy, mind you, but it might make him feel more at home.I suppose I could - umpft-“.

 

I was cut off mid sentence by Draco launching himself into my lap, pressing hard, emotive kisses all over my cheeks, eyelids, forehead and jaw.He gripped my face, leaning his forehead onto mine, and said, “do you have any idea how special you are, Weasley?”

 

Me, special?I’d never really felt it, even as part of the Golden Trio.No matter the situation; sibling, Quidditch, Auror, saving the world; I was never the star, or the recognized person.My name was always linked with others, whose deeds were way more exciting than my own.

 

“I didn’t think so,” he smirked, and brushed his lips over mine.“If you could only see yourself the way I do, you’d have no doubt.”

 

Something inside me thawed just then.It was like stepping into the sun after a particularly bitter winter day.Or maybe like finally venturing outside after two years of captivity.Cares and worries I had been dragging around since childhood suddenly seemed less important.Last night, I had given Draco the gift of being seen as a worthy person.Today, he was doing the same for me, and it wasn’t even something I knew I needed, until it happened.

 

“Kiss me,” I demanded, voice choked.“Kiss me like you mean it.”

 

He pressed his lips firmly to mine, giving me a sweet, chaste kiss.“I do mean it,” he replied, with utter sincerity. 

 

Being snogged in a garden chair was not the most comfortable sexual experience of my life, but it was the most intimate.It didn’t matter that the chair arm dug into my side, or that Draco towered over me and had to bend at an awkward angle to continue our kiss.In that moment, we were both seen, and we were both deserving.And it was all I had ever longed for.

 

~~~***~~~

 

The rest of the weekend flew by in a dizzying whirl of fresh air, flowers, and kisses.Sunday at the Burrow was skipped in favour of prolonging my short time with Draco.It was the first time since leaving Hogwarts that I had missed brunch for a non-work related purpose. 

 

Neither one of us slept much on Sunday evening, despite spending the day outside engaged in physical activity.Finally at seven I hauled myself out of bed and started to get ready.Draco followed suit, and we both got dressed in silence.

 

The easy rapport of the weekend was gone, smothered by the unknown future.I couldn’t put off facing it any longer.This was it.I could actually lose Draco today.I would fight tooth and nail against it, but in the end, if the Wizengamot ruled to carry out the Kiss, there was nothing I could do.

 

My eyes prickled with tears.I could not let Draco see me like this.I had to be strong, and believe that there would be a happy ending.Or at least not a tragic one.

 

I plastered on a smile and went to his room, knocking on the door.Draco stepped out of the bedroom, wearing the robes we had agreed on last night.They were old ones of mine, never worn because I found the silken material too fancy.I had transfigured them to fit Draco’s frame, and changed the colour from a royal blue to the dusky grey he requested, a few shades darker than his eyes.It was a hue that would look dull hanging on a sale rack, but looked ravishing on Draco.

 

We were silent as we made our way from the Ministry floo, towards the courtrooms.At the doorway of courtroom four, I paused, and gripped Draco’s hand, giving it one sharp, tight squeeze before letting go and walking through the door.

 

I let out a thankful sigh as I took in courtroom four.Dad had told me all about Harry’s brush with the Wizengamot, in the huge trial courtroom.Room four was more like a meeting space, with a large, rectangular table at the center and many chairs lined up on either side.One side was occupied with people, all wearing the same plum coloured robes that distinguished members of the Wizengamot.At the head of the table sat a bright looking witch, who introduced herself as Isabella Butterfree, the new Head Witch of the Wizengamot, and directed us to sit down.“You’ve declined your right to lawyer representation, Mr. Malfoy?” she asked in a precise manner. 

 

Draco nodded, then cleared his throat and answered “yes”.His voice only shook a tiny bit.

 

“Alright,” she said, with a nod of her own.“Let’s get right to it.”Ms. Butterfree shuffled through some papers in front of her.“I’m newly appointed to the Chief Wizengamot position, following some internal restructuring.”A nice way gloss over the corruption in the system.“Let me make sure I have the facts of the case straight.In short, you’ve been sentenced to the Dementor’s Kiss, for crimes committed during the second Wizarding war in the UK.A motion to review your sentencing was recently filed.Do you agree with that summary, Mr. Malfoy?”

 

Draco watched sceptically as a charmed quill recorded the proceedings.“Yes, I agree.”

 

“Very good,” came the clipped reply of the Wizengamot witch.“We have reviewed your case, Mr. Malfoy.All of it.The initial crimes you were charged with happened when you were underage, did they not?”

 

“That is correct,” Draco answered in his posh Malfoy voice.

 

“And the latter crimes, the murders, they took place when you were an adult.Did you kill any of those people directly, Mr. Malfoy?With your wand, or by any other means, magical or muggle.”

 

“No,” Draco said.

 

“No,” Ms. Butterfree repeated.She removed her glasses and rubbed the spot above her nose, between her eyes.“Mr. Malfoy, I’m afraid a terrible injustice has befallen you.It is not the modus operandi of the Wizengamot to sentence underage wizards to the Dementor’s Kiss, nor to pin violent crimes on convenient scapegoats.

 

“After thoroughly reviewing your appeal, including character witness testimony from several upstanding members of the Wizarding community, both living and dead,” her mouth twitched a tiny bit, like she was biting back a smile, “we, the members of the Wizengamot, have ruled that your time served in Azkaban is sufficient punishment for your boyhood crimes.”

 

Was she...did that mean...Draco wasn’t going to be Kissed?

 

“You will remain in Ministry custody for six months, during which time you will prove your worth to the Wizarding community by excelling in a work placement.”Ms. Butterfree shuffled her papers again.“Ah, yes, here it is.Magical Mishaps Animal Rehab has agreed to take you on.”She looked across the table at Draco, her stern expression very much reminiscent of Professor McGonagall.“You will work hard, but you will also not do anything that you are uncomfortable with, or puts you in danger.Do you understand?”

 

Draco nodded, seemingly at a loss for words.It was a lot to take in.

 

“Excellent,” Ms. Butterfree stated, rising up from the table.She reached forward to shake Draco’s hand as the other members of the Wizengamot started to shuffle in their seats.“Good luck, Mr. Malfoy.I have great faith in you.”She turned to me and said, “a quick side note: never have I ever been presented with such a thorough, well prepared legal appeal.Pass on my kudos, Auror Weasley.”And with a wink thrown my way, she strode out of the room.

 

The members of the Wizengamot took their leave, murmuring “good luck” and “best wishes” under their breath as they passed.A few even stopped to shake Draco’s hand.

 

Then it was just us, alone in the courtroom.Draco looked ready to fall over.I wasn’t surprised when he muttered “Salazar,” and slid down into his chair.He turned his face and gazed up at me, his mouth creasing up in a huge smile that was growing by the second.

 

I crouched down in front of him, placing my hands on his knees, and smiled back.We must have looked like a couple of loons, but I didn’t give a single fuck. 

 

Something shifted, and the air seemed charged with electricity.Draco’s smile slipped slightly, and he bit his bottom lip, his grey eyes turning stormy.The night of our first kiss came rushing back.Here we were, in the same positions, and all those feelings, of longing and tenderness and acceptance, they were still there, stronger than ever, making it hard to breath or concentrate on anything besides Draco sodding Malfoy.

 

It had always been Draco sodding Malfoy, hadn’t it?

 

I leaned in, running my hands up his thighs as I did so, my body tingling in anticipation of this kiss.Maybe our last kiss.

 

“Hurumh.”Someone cleared their throat.We were not alone.

 

I peeked over Draco’s shoulder.Kingsley Shacklebolt was leaning on the courtroom door, his cheeks rather red and eyes averted.“How...how long have you been standing there?” I gasped.

 

“I was waiting for the Wizengamot verdict.I’m here to escort Mr. Malfoy to his work placement.”Kingsley met my eyes with a wide, innocent look.“As Minister for Magic, I don’t really have time for such duties.  Hopefully we find an appropriate candidate to fill that job soon.”Pushy bugger. 

 

Draco stood, back ramrod straight, looking tall and regal.“I’m ready, Minister,” he said deferentially.

 

As he slipped out the door, I heard it again.A faint “thank you,” uttered so quietly, like that first day all those weeks ago.Except this time, Draco added one word at the end.“Ron”.And even with his hushed tone, I could hear the warmth Draco infused into those three words.

 

“You’re welcome,” I answered, although I was once again not sure if he heard me.“Draco”.

 

~~~***~~~

 

EPILOGUE - Six Months Later

 

_**Auror Ronald Weasley Transforms Azkaban Prison** _

 

Ok, so it was the typical inflammatory headline favoured by the Prophet.Still, there was a kernel of truth there, and I couldn’t help but feel proud.

 

I had taken Minister Shacklebolt up on his employment offer.My official title was Law Enforcement Liaison Auror.Yes, Auror.I was a Junior Auror no longer.

 

My new job was taxing, and it kept me on my toes.But the cool thing was, the position was brand new, and came with no real expectations.That didn’t mean I could slack off; on the contrary, I was determined to prove myself worthy of the promotion.

 

Azkaban, for the first time in recorded history, was running like a well oiled machine.It was all due to the new workers we employed as prison guards.Emancipated House Elves.Hermione and I worked together to make it a reality.The Elves loved the work.They were proud to provide the prisoners with nutritious meals and fresh laundry and clean cells.It was in their nature to follow only the orders of their masters, so they had no trouble carrying out their tasks unswayed by the bribes or threats some of the more nefarious prisoners directed their way.The new wardens were delighted.

 

I wasn’t needed at the prison very much at all.Still, I kept up with the planned and unscheduled visits, just to be on the safe side.Azkaban wouldn’t fall back into a hellish cesspool under my watch.

 

One of my favourite duties in my new position was meeting with the work experience prisoners.Nothing could beat the feeling of seeing a former hopeless witch or wizard transformed as they fell in love with their placement.Pairing a prisoner and company wasn’t easy by any means.Sometimes it took several tries.Sometimes a prisoner never rose to the challenge, which was always disappointing.Sometimes a placement turned out to have less than honest intentions.Those companies were stricken from the program, fined, and had charges laid against them, if circumstances warranted.It was my job to keep the prisoners safe.

 

The only work experience placement I didn’t visit directly was Draco.I sent Harry instead.That’s how you knew your best mate truly loved you; he was willing to be sniped at by his childhood nemesis, just to make you happy.

 

Harry’s reports all saw Draco flourishing.There were rave reviews, both from the rehab centre about Draco, and from the man himself about his coworkers and managers.It was a top-notch placement.

 

In fact, they were so impressed, they had offered Draco a permanent paid position, once he had fulfilled his sentence.Today was that day.

 

After a week of dreary rain that blanketed the entire country in drab misery, the weather shifted, and the sun attempted to peek weakly out from behind the clouds.I stood just off from the animal rehab entrance, semi-concealed by the shade of a towering ash tree. 

 

This was a departure from standard release protocol.Usually, a work release prisoner that had fulfilled their obligations would floo directly to my office.I took it upon myself to ensure that they had a proper place to live, respectable employment lined up, and access to Ministry assistance resources.Of course, with the position being fairly new, Draco was only my second such case, and, as ever, he was worth bendingthe rules for.

 

I hadn’t seen him in six months.Harry assuredme that he looked “fine”, and even admitted to “healthy” when I pressed for more.I didn’t know what to expect.

 

My stomach flipped when I first caught sight of him, walking slowly out of the gate.After just a few steps he paused, and tilted his gaze to the sky, seeking the glow of the sun.He did look healthy.Filled out, but still lean and graceful.I could see the faint trace of a tan on his pale skin, tinting his nose and his lower arms, where the cuffs of his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. 

 

There was also a glint on his neck.Right, that’s why I was here. Draco Malfoy had successfully served his time.

 

“Draco,” I called, startling the man out of his thoughts.  I was nervous and sweating, worried off my head that I had misinterpreted the depth of Draco’s feelings towards me. Towards us.  

 

He turned my way, a slow smile spreading over his face.“Weasley,” he replied, emotion making his voice thick.

 

I was supposed to be professional.I was supposed to remove his collar and provide him with a Ministry issue wand.I was supposed to go over reams and reams of paperwork with him, detailing his parole conditions and work obligations.I was supposed to explain the Ministry’s role in his release to society.

 

Professionalism could just bugger off right now.

 

“Hey,” I said, like a total dork.After six months!Hey.That was the best I could come up with.

 

“Hey,” he echoed, as he moved towards me, and me breath caught in my chest. 

 

Staring at him, looking fit and happy and just...there, right in front of me; it was too much.I gave my head a little shake, and confessed, in a disjointed, rambling fashion, “we are supposed to be back at the Ministry. In my office. Discussing your future.”

 

“I like the sound of that,” he said, his wide smile turning a little lopsided and shy.“Discussing the future with you.”I nearly had to close my eyes, he looked so beautiful.

 

Draco laced his fingers though mine, and we set off down the road, all dopey grins and bashful stolen glances, no destination in mind, warm and happy under the fresh spring sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I was working on another Ron/Draco story when this popped into my head. I enjoy writing BAMF Ron Weasley, especially when he doesn’t realize what a gem he is.
> 
> Oh, and for those wondering, Ron went to Malfoy Manor, and after days of searching, located Terrence the Tortoise. Terrence has a kingly greenhouse in Ron’s garden, but spends a great deal of time in front of Ron’s floo, keeping a beady eye on Pig.
> 
> Just imagine how excited Draco will be when he sees him :)


End file.
